


Not A Fairy Tale Romance

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina accuses Emma of sexual harassment, Emma arrests Regina for prostitution, and other sundry happenings in Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an AU as of 1x07 - The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter.

Regina walked home in a haze. Her lip tingling where that cow had punched her was the only way she had of knowing she wasn't on some sort of opiate. She knew, of course, that Graham's heart was behind her, that he'd been within minutes of finding her secret, that he'd rejected her for Emma no matter how much he denied it, because even though this world was where she could be happy, Emma wouldn't get with the program and she got everything Regina wanted. I've killed men for less, she thought, although the exact memory eluded her. Nonetheless, she was sure she had. Evil Queen, of course. That's what they called her.

Really, killing Graham would be his own fault. She'd warned him, warned Emma, given them every chance to get onboard. They'd be happy that way. Not as happy as her, of course, but she deserved it more, the way she'd suffered. She'd even invited that...  _hippie_  into her bed. Now he and Emma were probably being disgustingly cloy together, bandaging each others' wounds and making googoo eyes with their raw, burning, Hallmark card sexuality. It'd served them right if she crushed Graham's heart under her heel, hopefully killing him right on top of Emma and giving her a neurosis in the process. It'd serve her right, the slut.

 

Regina was just about to turn her car around (having climbed in and keyed the ignition in a vengeful haze) when she saw that damned wolf of his. Hadn't she let Graham keep his ridiculous spirit guide or whatever it was back in the kingdom? And of course, he'd still never made the first move. There she was, with the finest silks money could buy and a little (very little) magic in the chest area and he couldn't be a goddamn alpha male to save his life. She had to imply he was her consort just to save face, when she could've made him her king. Honestly, her romance with Maleficient was steamier, and she wasn't even a lesbian. Just debauched, as any good evil queen should be.

 

All these past offenses flashed through Regina's mind in an instance. The wolf was in the middle of the road, the other lane to be precise. With a single "Ha!" of would-be maniacal laughter, Regina jerked the wheel to the side. Her car swerved into the nonexistent oncoming traffic, but the wolf was quicker. It bounded out of the way and Regina found her tires skidding with the sudden motion anyway, shrieking like a disappointed chorus. She spun the wheel back toward her lane, then remembered the brakes, and somehow all of her impeccable driving skills sent the car into a skid. Thankfully, she didn't go off-road--the town's tow-truck operator was a witch, and she didn't want to spend all night going over the gingerbread house collection.

 

But her back tires did plow through the gravel on the side of the road, eventually making a loud crack just as the car came to a stop, one Regina couldn't place. She looked over her shoulder and saw the Welcome to Storybrooke sign--which she had  _just_  replaced--wobbling, teetering, falling.

 

Numbly putting the car in Park, Regina got out of the car. She walked around to the back of it. The sign was down and out. The damage, a long crack right through the middle, had been concealed by the backseat. Even if she managed to get the sign upright again, it would probably split apart. What an apt fucking metaphor. Lolling up at the night sky like Graham's stupid, flea-ridden, un-house-trained, worse-than-a-cat-in-every-conceivable-way wolf, Regina spat out the longest string of curses she had ever uttered in her adult life, a majority of them centering on Emma, her parentage, and her parenting skills (which consisted of laying her eggs in someone else's loving, supportive, financially stable nest and then coming back later to reclaim her brood without so much as a babysitting tip, like that bird Regina couldn't remember the name of. The asshole one).

 

"Uh, Madam Mayor? Is everything alright?"

 

It was Archie, he of the newfound backbone. Driving a Volvo. Stopped in the road like the picture of concern, as if he hadn't probably already taken a picture to e-mail to Emma. Probably with a caption like 'herp derp' or 'i have a stupid' and why did she even let the Internet into her perfect world? It was full of perverts and men pretending to be women. If she ever did this again, she was putting her world in the 1950s. And adopting a daughter.

 

Regina looked at Archie for another half-second, thinking of baby girl names, then gave him the finger. "Screw you, cricket!"

 

He drove away, rolling the window up.

 

Regina spent an almost-cathartic minute stomping on the sign, only stopping when one of her heels snapped. She was becoming Emma. That was it. A magic spell had been cast, probably by that little dip Mr. Gold, and now Emma was claiming her life. She was becoming a successful, independent, strong woman in charge of her sexuality, and Regina was becoming a loser with a GED. That was the only explanation. That was why they'd both destroyed the sign (which Regina had never liked anyway). Well, it wouldn't work. Gathering herself, Regina straightened her clothes, slid back behind the wheel of her car, and drove home.

 

Let Emma have Graham. He was literally as emotionally unavailable as a man could be (the thought that this was Regina's fault for having his heart in a box occurred to her, but she consoled herself that she would've given it back if she wasn't sure he would've immediately turned around and stuffed it in Emma's panties. Or however that metaphor went). Oh, and let Emma prance around out in the open, fucking Graham, who was her  _boss_ , after all. Let her see how moralistic the average ex-fairy tale could be. Pretty soon it'd get around that Emma Swan spread like cream cheese, and then what court would give her Henry? Yes, this was all coming together!

 

Arriving in her driveway just in time for her rear bumper to fall off, along with a taillight, (Regina would order Henry to clean it up. That was one of the joys of having kids, after all. Free labor), Regina walked her crisply-in-charge-of-the-world walk to her front door, displaying to her audience of none that she was still the Mayor and she was still a BAMF (as the stupid internet put it) and she certainly hadn't been dumped for some bottle-blonde trash. No, no killing. She'd let the two lovebirds suffer instead, with their meaningless sex and their... stupid faces!

 

Regina decided a glass of white wine was called for, to reward herself for her saint-like behavior (not very evil queenish, she knew) and her masterful manipulation of the situation to screw her ex-boyfriend and his whore lover (much more evil queenish).

 

Halfway through the second bottle, the doorbell rang. "Henry, get the door!" Regina shouted, then remembered he was in bed. Was he really that tired out by putting one little bumper in the trash? Probably just faking it to get out of more work. Probably learned that from Emma. In no time at all, he'd start wearing tanktops and flaunting his little boy cleavage to get what he wanted, just like mommy.

 

Standing--and wobbling a little before remembering that she was a strong, assertive woman and could handle her liquor like some kind of saint of drinking--Regina glided her way to the front door, with all the course corrections a hang glider might get from thermal updrafts and trying to avoid flying into a mountain. She opened it, after puzzling out how to work the doorknob with her brilliant, computer-like mind.

 

Graham. And his stupid, can't-figure-out-how-to-work-a-razor-because-of-stupidity face.

 

"Regina, Archie called about you being in a wreck, are you alright...? Is this a bad time?"

 

She stabbed her finger into his chest. "It was a pity fuck. They were all pity fucks."

 

Slamming the door in his face, she went to congratulate her own stylish, Hepburn-esque handling of the situation with some red wine, which had to be feeling neglected by then. She might've erred with the kid, the sheriff, and the internet, but getting a house with a wine cellar was a perfect display of the kind of criminal genius that made her such a dangerous, completely-justified villain.

 

***

 

It might've pleased Regina to know that Emma was thinking of her, in a roundabout way. A bottle of beer in hand to counter Mary Margaret's orange juice, Emma was just relating her tale of woe: how Graham had caught cute-crazy-person from Henry, how she'd gotten in the middle of a break-up, then punched the mayor, then had a Moment with Graham, then he'd run off because Regina had called. It was like high school all over again.

 

Alright, Graham hadn't exactly run off because he'd gotten a sext from the mayor (as if she'd know how to spell a sexy word). But he'd gotten the call from Archie and decided both the Moment and his earth-shattering realization could be put on hold. So Emma trudged home to drown her sorrows and face facts--anyone interested in her was either a criminal, possibly delusional, or a lesbian.

 

A good night's sleep, contrary to M&M's advice, didn't help so much. She was willing to redo the experiment by staying in bed all day, but her phone rang. If it was Graham, she would--it wasn't Graham.

 

"I'm not in the mood for Operation Cobra, kid," she told Henry.

 

"It's not that. Regina's sick or something. And there's no one to take me to school. And you ask Graham about his other life, he believes--"

 

"I'm coming over," Emma said, throwing on clothes, visions of "I only hit her once, your honor, how was I supposed to know she had a concussion?" dancing in her head.

 

Thankfully, ensembles were easy when you only owned one jacket.

 

***

 

Emma had time to think about her panicked response to Regina's possible brain damage on the way over. It was a little odd. Regina would've assumed that Emma would have a little dance for the Mayor being in any sort of pain, and she was right. It was pretty much just the moonwalk, but Emma was proud of being able to do that and looked for opportunities to show it off. The thing was, now that the Mayor actually was hurt, Emma felt like she was going to pant her lungs out. She hadn't felt this queasy since Henry had gotten trapped in that mine. Maybe it was because she was such a good person that even the thought of her enemy in distress got her het up.

 

Yeah, right. If she'd gotten an e-mail saying that Jimmy Corrigan from sixth grade had gotten AIDS, she'd have gone off and bought the nearest bar a round on the house. Bastard needed to learn not to go around spreading lies about girls and what sort of underwear they preferred.

 

Arriving at the Mayor's (and able to take some satisfaction in Regina's car's suffering, if not that of the woman herself), Emma found Henry sitting on the front step, slaughtering Nazis ogres or whatever it was you did on a Nintendo DS. Emma had fallen out with videogames somewhere around Bubsy the Cat. "Your mom's inside?"

 

"Yeah. She said my game was giving her a headache. Are you taking me to school?"

 

"Later, kid." Emma pushed her way into the house, closing the door behind her. If Regina had died, she didn't want Henry to see her corpse. Trauma like that made people grow up to be Batman or whatever. And why was she thinking about Regina dead?  _Get a hold of yourself, Swan._

 

The good news was, Regina was still alive. The bad news was the four empty champagne bottles by the couch where she was sleeping. Thankfully, at least one of them had emptied into the carpet instead of Regina's mouth.

 

“Her honor, the Mayor.”

 

One eye opened, pupil swimming in a morass of veiny red. “Hi slut,” Regina said, and held a cushion over her head.

 

Emma, automatically tidying up, picked up the wine bottles. “No more drinking, alright? I’ll take Henry to school. You just lie there and—ah hell.” Going to the kitchen, Emma dropped the bottles in the recycle bin and summoned a tall glass of water from the tap. When she brought it to Regina, the mayor was at third base with her cushion. “To think, all those geese gave their feathers so you’d have a place to store your drool.” She set the water down by Regina’s dangling hand. “Drink that. It’ll help with the hangover. Voice of experience here.”

 

“Sstop stealin’ my life,” Regina slurred at her, or possibly the cushion.

 

***

 

By the time Emma had found Henry’s school  _and_  dealt with a domestic disturbance call at Belle’s (“My love will change him!”), the vindictive thrill of seeing Mayor Perfect three sheets to the wind had turned back into concern. What if Regina died of alcohol poisoning?  _Your honor, I just gave her a glass of water. Yes, my fingerprints were on the fatal wine bottles, but only because I was trying to **dispose of the evidence.**_

 

She got back to stately Mills manor just in time for the hangover. Regina was on her laptop, typing, wincing at the noise of the keyboard, and typing some more. “What are you doing out of bed?” Emma pitched her voice to turn it, as much as possible, into an insult instead of a concern.

 

“Haven’t you heard, deputy? No rest for the wicked stepmother.” Regina’s inbox pinged and she glared at her computer with murderous intent. “Being mayor isn’t just cutting things with really big scissors. I have responsibilities.”

 

“Yeah, without you, who will coordinate the bail-out for Suzy Miller’s lemonade stand?” Emma shut the laptop, trying not to enjoy the way Regina groaned at the sound. “Go sleep it off. Storybrooke will get by without you.”

 

Regina forced her laptop open, Emma snatching her fingers back. “This is my town. I’m not telling them I drank three bottles of wine last night and need a sick day.”

 

“Four bottles.”

 

“I spilled one.”

 

“Fine,” Emma spun the laptop around, e-mailed ‘does anyone know what an FAT32 error is?’ to her contact list, and turned the power off. “There. Computer trouble. Mayoral enough for you?”

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

“If I were enjoying this, don’t you think I would open the blinds?” Emma ushered Regina to the nearest love seat in a way only vaguely reminiscent of a perp walk. "Look," she said, backing away as if she'd pulled a thorn from a lion's paw and now wanted to avoid being mauled to death. She moved to sit down in Regina's vacant chair. "This isn't easy for me to say, so promise you won't interrupt until I'm done?"

 

"Certainly. Out of my chair."

 

Emma sat on Regina's desk instead. "I owe you an apology."

 

Regina was actually more stunned than when Emma had punched her. "We're in agreement," she stammered.

 

Emma wagged a finger. No interruptions. "I'm used to dealing with methheads and repeat offenders, not--women. Looking back, I haven't done so awesome."

 

Regina said nothing, in accord with the rules, but she did open her mouth and close it again so Emma could imagine her response.

 

"We got into a fistfight," Emma said, unamused. "Can you imagine if Henry had seen that? That's how you grow up to be on Criminal Minds."

 

Regina stared at her. This was a trick. Some kind of trick. "So what are you proposing?"

 

Emma stood again, shuffling her feet. "Look, you're not the worst mom in the world. I've been in the system, I've met the leading candidates. You're pretty good, actually. You obviously care, it's just maybe I got the wrong idea when I first got here. I asked you if you loved Henry and you... had to think about it."

 

Regina shut her long-suffering eyes. "I would very much like to interrupt."

 

"Thank you for not." Emma set her feet firmly. "I was wrong. So, let's start over. I'll stop shooting at you and you stop shooting at me. Ceasefire."

 

"That sounds nice," Regina said noncommittally.

 

"And about the Graham thing..."

 

Regina shot her a warning look so intense it actually triggered her own hangover. She held a hand to her head.

 

"I don't know what's going on with you two. But I promise to stand clear while you work out whatever you're working out. There's nothing going on between us."

 

_He's mine!_  Regina bit her lip immediately, embarrassed at the thought. Stupid. Stupid, obvious, transparent, insulting trick. "And why would you be so kind to me?"

 

"Do I need a reason?" Emma halfway shrugged. "And I'm sorry for what I said in the graveyard. I had no right to say those things to you. I just... do stupid stuff when I'm trying to hurt someone."

 

Regina was too tired for this. Her head was too big, and this was too stupid for her to deal with. She'd sort out Emma's game later. For now, she'd use this to her advantage.

 

"Alright,  _friend._  How about some Aspirin and a cup of hot coffee to wash it down?"

 

Emma nodded smartly. "Yes ma'am, Mayor Mills." And she actually went off and got it. That idiot Emma must've been a real moron to think she'd fall for  _that_.


	2. Chapter 2

The non-aggression pact with Regina soothed Emma a little, but there was a core of unease that crept up on her in the rare quiet moment. Honestly, it went beyond concern. She'd felt it since the fight with Regina. There was such a  _look_  on Regina's face. She was frightened, but not of Emma--of losing something hard-won and already half-gone. Emma didn't know why she cared; it wasn't like she'd ever had anything worth losing, while Regina probably still had the silver spoon she'd been born with.

 

Sympathy for the devil. She must've been spending too much time with Mary Margaret. The nun was rubbing off on her. Just hopefully not the celibacy part.

 

She had just decided to put Regina out of her mind and focus on delightful small town police work (Incident report: George Porg had exposed himself at the all-girls boarding school again) when Henry skipped into the police station.

 

"We just let kids into the jail?" Emma groused at Graham, who looked like he was trying to be as far away from kissing her as possible. She appreciated the effort. "That's how you get Dexter."

 

"My name's Henry," Henry retorted. "And I'm here to see the sheriff."

 

Emma turned to Graham, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Guy talk. Poker and Bruce Willis movies. You wouldn't be interested."

 

Her birthday was next month. "Fine, be mysterious. But if it's a surprise party, I'm killing the least cute one."

 

"And which is that?" Graham asked, with his dazzlingest look. A nudge to Henry and the kid joined in.

 

That reminded her. "Mind if I take a few minutes before you start smoking cigars? Mom talk."

 

Graham held his hands up. "Take all the time you need." He took his leave, probably to feed that stray dog that'd been hanging around all morning.

 

Henry sat himself on the other side of Emma' desk, eager to please. "Here, have a donut." She shoved the box his way. His youthful metabolism owed it to her to take the hit. "Your mother and I had a talk--"

 

"She's not my mother," Henry said, kicking his legs gently.

 

She rolled her eyes. "Don't start. I gave you a donut." Steepling her hands on the desk in the fashion of a mature and reasonable adult, Emma continued. "I don't want to fight with Regina anymore."

 

"But she's the evil--"

 

"Donut!" Emma shouted him down. After he took a bite and relented, she went on in her indoor voice. "Look, have you ever read Grimm's Fairy Tales? They're awful! People get their eyes pecked out and hot irons put on their feet and--" Henry looked like he was going to vomit. "--and cooties. I don't want to do that to your mom. Do you?"

 

"Maybe you could throw her in the dungeon?"

 

Emma ran a hand through her hair. "Okay. You're a kid, you can't read fairy tales all the time. Haven't you ever watched Star Wars?"

 

"Of course I have. I'm not a Mormon."

 

"Well, maybe your mom's like Anakin. She's had some tough breaks," Emma poked Henry's chest from across the desk, "but as long as her son believes in her, she can come back to the Light Side. So give her a chance to, alright?"

 

Henry looked at her with the guilty sullenness of a child who knew he had no choice. "Alllright."

 

Emma gave him her most reassuring smile. "Cool. Go bro-fist Graham. Have another donut for the road."

 

And that was it. That was all the precious time Emma was going to give Regina Mills and her small town power trip. Only she went to the room Graham and Henry had secured themselves in, listening at the door. She just wanted to make sure Henry didn’t go spelunking again.

 

“So Mary Margaret and David have to kiss to break the curse?” Graham’s voice.

 

“ _True love’s_  kiss,” Henry corrected. “If they have their happy ending, everyone gets a happy ending.”

 

“And where’s that leave Kathryn?”

 

“David doesn’t even love her. Would you wanna date someone you don’t love?”

 

“It’s just a shame. She seems nice.”

 

Men. Emma left them to their RPG.

 

***

 

And  _now_  she was done. Henry stopped by, not wanting her help with more Candyland adventures, but just to show her his comic books and try to rope her into playing Pokemon. Training Charmander did wile away the hours at the town speed trap. The first time he showed up at the station, interrupting her perusal of a Cosmo (Five ways to get your boss to ask you to stay late all night), she asked if Regina knew he was there. “Sure. She said it was cool as long as I did my homework.”

 

She sent him to get them a pizza and called Regina to make sure. Her call went to voicemail. Emma laid out the facts, hung up, and a moment later got a text from Regina. “I’m holding you accountable for his safety. No high-speed chases while he’s in the car.”

 

Was that a joke?

 

After a week of Henry being as much a fixture as the bars, it was Sunday. Graham was out of the office on, of all the things, a camping trip, leaving Emma alone with her Angry Birds. She had just continued the cycle of violence with the pigs when the mayor strolled in, hands behind her back and a look in her eyes that made Emma think of an eagle spotting a mouse.

 

“Regina,” she greeted affably. “Come to confess something?”

 

“Oh, all my naughtiness is so far in the past that I expect people have forgotten all about it.” She brought her hands in front of her. Smoke shot into the air. Had she just fired a gun?

 

Emma nearly quick-drew before seeing it was steam coming off a pie. Her neurosis would never let her live that down, so she took it out on the mayor. “Little late for a housewarming gift, don’t you think?”

 

Regina set it down on her desk. Going into the tiny kitchen to find a knife (she seemed to know her way around the place. Romantic dinners with Graham?), Regina continued, maybe finding it easier to talk to Emma when she wasn’t looking at her. “My first peace offering didn’t go over so well. I thought I’d try again with baked goods. I have a lot of apples to use before they go bad.”

 

Emma didn’t go wandering into that minefield. “Thanks,” she said, enraging Regina to the point where she came back and stabbed the pie. Or just cut Emma a slice.

 

“Henry’s been more obedient of late. I assume I have you to thank for that?”

 

Emma watched the slice Regina cut for her. It looked delicious, insides as red as Regina’s nails. “I told him to ease off a little, yeah. I don’t want him getting torn between us.”

 

Regina bit her lip, dragging it between her teeth for a moment. Red lipstick. White teeth. “As much as I… didn’t choose it, you are a part of my son’s life. We should make the best of it. You can be a good role model. You’re strong… intelligent… willful… beautiful…” Regina finished cutting the pie, so hard she nearly cracked the pan. Satisfied, she set it on one of the plates she’d fetched from the kitchen.

 

“I’m not hungry,” Emma said quickly. “Already had supper.”

 

“It’s three o’clock.”

 

“I’m a stress-eater.”

 

“Oh. I see… worried about laxatives in the crust?”

 

“Something like that.”  _More like cyanide in the filling._

 

Regina sank one long, slender finger into the pie. She pulled it out slowly, dripping red, and sucked it into her mouth. It came out clean. “I assure you, deputy: one taste of this pie and you’ll be begging to lick my plate.”

 

Perching herself on Emma’s desk in a way that showed more leg than skirt, Regina inched the pie closer to Emma… who leaned forward, as if to take a whiff, but instead stared Regina down with a ‘friendly’ smile. “Even if I were hungry, I come to dinner with a big appetite. And I don’t think your pie is all that filling.”

 

Regina leaned forward as if to take a whiff of  _Emma_ , but instead hovered over her with an uncomfortably intense closeness. “Dessert isn’t about nutrition. It’s about taste. It’s about how your mouth waters with desire. So you try this. And if you get a taste for it, come find me. We’ll see about a second helping.” So abruptly it left Emma a little breathless, Regina spun the other way and walked off without a second glance.

 

What was  _that_  all about? Emma wondered.

 

***

 

What was  _that?_  Regina wondered. She wasn’t a seductress. Men just loved her because they were supposed to, not because she flaunted herself. She’d just been so… not upset…  _inflamed_ by Emma’s presumption that she had to do something to ruffle her feathers. Only Emma hadn’t given an inch. She’d met Regina’s eyes with more  _interest_  than Graham had ever shown. And Regina had responded in kind. It actually scared her a little, how she’d lost control. And made her look forward to their next meeting.


	3. Chapter 3

  
“911, what’s your emergency?”

 

“This is Regina Mills, I’m at my home, 315 Clark Street. There’s a man in my house. I think he has a gun.”

 

“A unit is on its way.”

 

“My son is with me!”

 

***

 

Emma had one slice. And yes, it was warm and gooey and other things that weren’t vagina-adjectives. But that was it. She’d let Graham have the rest of Regina’s pie.

 

She was just reheating another slice when the call came in. The 911 Dispatch usually only got fender benders and people calling for movie showtimes, but tonight, it was Regina Mills. “She says there’s someone in her house,” the operator said.

 

“I’m on my way.” Ten seconds later, Emma was in her car, on the radio with dispatch. “Put her through to me,” she ordered, smashing down the pedal. “Regina, you there? Answer me—“

 

“I never thought I’d be so glad to hear your voice, Emma. Or for your right hook.”

 

“My right hook is seven minutes out.” Images of Regina and Henry and blood kept flashing into Emma’s mind. Regina’s voice was a match in the darkness, driving it away. As pathetic as it sounded, she needed comforting as much as Regina. “Are you in a safe place? Is Henry with you?”

 

“We’re together. I have us in the sewing room. The intruder’s downstairs.”

 

“Look around. Is there anything you can use for a weapon?”

 

“Knitting needle. A pair of scissors.”

 

“Take the scissors. If he comes in, go for his throat.” Emma suddenly remembered she was a cop now. She hit her siren even as she ran a red light.

 

***

 

She’d underestimated how small Storybrooke was. In four minutes she was parked on Regina’s front yard. Drawing her service revolver and flashlight, she went to the door (the lock was splinters) to ease it open. The house had that emptier-than-empty feel you got with home invasions. “This is the police!” she shouted. What came after that? “We have the place surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”

  
Regina and Henry appeared at the top of the stairs. Henry had his hands up. Emma gestured them over and they flew down the stairs, Regina tightly holding Henry’s hand. As they ran past her and out the door, Emma caught a fleeting sideways look from Regina. It was the first time she’d seen Regina without suspicion, anger, or the kind of protective fear you got when what you loved was threatened. There was just gratitude. Regina had never looked more beautiful.

 

Emma backed out of the house, gun covering the shadows. “Officer in need of assistance, send back-up immediately…”

 

***

 

Graham showed up with the volunteer fire department as reinforcements, but by then the intruder, if he hadn’t left already, was definitely gone. Emma covered the Mills family like a blanket, sitting on the other side of Henry from Regina as the men swept the house. As much as Emma disliked the cliché, she wanted to stay with Henry and the bench felt so safe with them protecting Henry on both sides.

  
Graham came to them, hat in hand, to ask for Regina’s statement. His eyes ran furtively between the two women, but he was a good cop—he took down the statement and excused himself. By this time, the lack of adrenaline had knocked Henry out. His head laid on Regina’s lap. She petted his hair like she’d wanted to touch him for a long time and this was the only way she could.

 

“I would’ve thought you’d be the one to lull him to sleep,” she spoke with the same lack Emma had seen in her eyes earlier. Without her claws out, the emptiness in Regina was totally obvious. Like a hole in the middle of her chest.

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma replied.

 

“Again?”

 

“No mother should have to feel that her son is someone else’s.”

 

“He’s mine,” Regina agreed feebly. “I just want to hold onto him.”

 

“There’s such a thing as holding on too tight,” Emma reasoned. “Henry’s not gonna leave forever if you give him some leeway. He’ll just come back.”

 

“Is this still the voice of experience talking?”

 

“I did have  _some_  good foster-parents,” Emma said, mock-offended.

 

Regina turned to hide her smile and saw that they were alone. The firemen had left and Graham was keeping a respectful distance. She waved him off. With a nod, he got in his cruiser and drove off, a little slower than necessary.

 

Soon enough, they were alone with the moon and stars and their sleeping boy. It was a cold night and the natural direction was to the nearest warmth. And to Regina, Emma burned so hot, not cold and sinister like her. They were so different, far too different… Regina imagined she could feel the heat on her skin, like they were touching already.

 

“I should go,” Emma said, and Regina desperately wanted to know how her thoughts paralleled her own.

 

Her lips pinched in the middle, with many things she had to say to that and none she wanted out loud. “If you think it’s best,” she said, the thing she wanted to say least of all.

 

Emma stood, stretching, and Regina saw beneath her leather jacket in places. It occurred to her that she’d seen because she’d looked. “You could stay at a hotel tonight. I know a good bed and breakfast. Or Mary Margaret has a ridiculous assortment of love seats, if…”

 

“Here’s fine,” Regina assured her. Everything she said was rushed by the sudden knowledge that what she felt for Emma wasn’t lust or the vague, elusive need she could only define by its void, most keenly felt when she saw happy endings and happy feelings (she’d taken care of  _that_ ). Somehow, Emma combined the worst, hungriest parts of both.

 

Her words sped. “Henry will sleep in my room. I’ll keep my taser on the nightstand. I’m already expecting the locksmith tonight, and I’ll have a new security system put in tomorrow morning. You have no reason to worry.”

 

And yet Emma stood there, looking at Regina like she was trying to prepare herself for the hurt of losing everything. Maybe it’d happened before.

 

“I’m a phone call away if anything happens.  _Anything._ ”

 

“A whole phone call away? If this was all it took to teach you about boundaries, I would have been burglarized a lot sooner.”

  
Emma said nothing. But she didn’t leave until Regina had carried Henry inside and locked the door behind her.

 

***

 

It was happenstance. Maybe a little less, maybe a little more. Now that Graham knew the truth, everything had an odd taste of predestination, a kind of déjà vu. Henry would think so, but he’d never been in the fairy tales. They were messier than he thought, messier and bigger and faster. So maybe it was just random.

 

But driving through town, hoping to get lucky and see a suspicious character he could haul in for the home invasion, Graham instead saw a lonely shape on a park bench, huddled like a shadow at midday. He parked around the block and walked over. Without the hum of his car engine, he could hear her sniffles carrying like crickets. It was a tiny, broken sound—like she’d cracked and the tear was slowly widening.

 

“Ma’am?” he said, looking at her full-on. It was Kathryn. David’s wife. And not David’s wife. She looked pale and fragile, her blouse too thin for that time of night, her bare arms coiled around her own chest as she let the sobs drain out of her.

 

“Sheriff,” she said, and wiped her face. He wished he had hung back a little, called her name sooner. Given her more time to compose herself. This felt invasive. “I’m fine, I’m alright—“

 

“Well, I know you weren’t mugged or anything,” Graham said, now shrugging off his jacket. He settled it around her and she made a token noise of protest before wrapping the still-warm material around herself. “Doesn’t mean you’re fine.”

 

“I’m not sure marriage counseling is in the sheriff’s job description.”

 

“It’s more of a hobby.” He sat down beside her, keeping a foot of difference between them so she didn’t think he was some kind of sleazeball going for a quick feel. “Might as well talk about it with someone.”

 

Kathryn was quiet, but he could feel her on some animal level, warming up in his presence. People didn’t do things all at once. As much as society tried to rush them, they happened at their own pace. Most of the time, you just had to stand back and let them.

 

Finally, she said “Have you ever lost someone?”

 

“In a matter of speaking.” She looked at him, eyes insisting on explanation. “There was someone I thought I… I don’t know what I thought. We were together. That’s what I thought. But it turned out she was using me, or I was using her… I’m not sure which it was, at the end. She thought I had something she needed. I didn’t.”

 

“It’s worse when you get them back,” Kathryn said, dead certain. “I thought I couldn’t be anymore alone than when David was gone. But now that he’s back, it’s like he’s further away than ever, because he’s right  _there_  and I still can’t…”

 

He could feel her slipping away, a shadow passing over her face. He smiled reassuringly to her. “Someone once told me that not having anyone was the worst curse imaginable. She was wrong. There’s no such thing as being alone, because somewhere in this world, there’s always someone going through the same thing as you. But having someone, and it being the wrong person?”

 

“David’s not the wrong person. He’s just… maybe he’s not the  _same_  person… Or maybe I’m not the same person. Sheriff—”

 

“You can call me Graham. You’re not a teenager, it won’t come off disrespectful.”

 

“Graham,” Kathryn said, carefully enunciating it. “Do you know Mary Margaret well?”

 

“We’re friends. Not close, but it’s a small town. Everyone gets a general idea of ya, eventually.”

 

“Is she the type that would… well, that would lead a man on? A man that’s taken?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Graham said, not saying that he’d seen worse done by better. People were never what they appeared to be. “Look, it’s getting late and while the streets may be safe, if I do say so myself, I can’t say the same for the weather. Let me give you a ride home.”

 

“No,” Kathryn said, quick and firm. “I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

 

“Why? Did he do something?”

 

“It’s not anything he does… just the way he works so hard, and I work so hard, and it never seems like enough…”

 

Graham nodded. “Then how about a ride to the police station? You can just sit down, I’ll give you some coffee, you can sort this all out in private.”

 

She thought it over, but not for very long. When you were drowning, you didn’t spend time eying rope. “Yes. I would like that.”

 

***

 

Regina couldn’t sleep. She looked down at Henry, held in her arms like a stuffed animal he himself might’ve slept with. He wished she could steal his innocent sleep for the night. No. Not his. Graham’s or Archie’s or Gold’s, but never Henry’s.

 

Untangling herself from his little boy need to be comforted, she stood and found a heavy housecoat to put on, one with a pocket for the taser. With one hand magnetized to it, she patrolled the first floor, checking that the doors and windows were locked, never leaving earshot of Henry. She knew she was being paranoid, and was just berating herself for being rattled by such a tiny offense when she saw the car parked across the street. It wasn’t one of the cars that belonged in her neighborhood. She’d know; it was her business to. Then she realized it was a VW Bug. Regina could’ve headbutted the wall.

 

Putting on a heavy coat and tying it over her nightclothes, she checked on Henry one last time. Then she went out to see Emma.

 

***

 

“I don’t recall putting overtime in the police budget.”

 

Emma rolled down her window, letting out the smell of coffee. “I’m doing this pro bono.”

 

“That’s for lawyers. What you’re doing is called vigilantism.”

 

Emma exaggeratedly furrowed her brow. “Like Batman?”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “Are you going to be out here all night?”

 

“Crime doesn’t have a curfew.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes harder. “Come inside. I have better coffee.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“No. Hurry up while it’d still be rude to send you packing.”

 

***

 

Henry was awake when they went back inside, at the top of the stairs, peeking down through the banisters.

 

“Oh no,” Regina said firmly. “Bed, Henry. You have school tomorrow.”

 

“You have being a mayor tomorrow,” he argued.

 

“I’ve been to college. I can handle staying up all night.”

  
”I think he’s a little young to hear about that,” Emma stage-whispered.

 

“Up studying.”

 

Following into the rhythm of children everywhere, Henry appealed one parent’s decision by turning to the other. Still speaking to Regina, he gave Emma his puppy dog eyes.

 

“If Emma’s having a sleepover, can she watch my Scooby Doo DVD?”

 

“No!” Regina said, crossing her arms now. “You need to get to sleep.”

  
Emma gently prodded Regina with her elbow. “C’mon, Regina, read him a bedtime story or something.“

 

“Yeah!” Henry said.

 

Regina sighed. Now they were both giving her the puppy dog eyes. It must’ve been genetic. “One story, then you’ll go to bed?”

 

“I promise!”

 

“He promises, Regina,” Emma chimed.

 

“Fine,” Regina growled. She forced her voice to lighten. “Get in bed and I’ll be up in a minute.” She looked at Emma, already knowing the deputy would be tagging along. “But no comments from the peanut gallery.”

  
”I’ll turn off my brain like I’m at a Michael Bay movie.”

 

***

 

After last week, Regina had sworn off wine, but even AA would say that a home invasion called for a drink. She allowed herself one glass, then washed it out and put it up to dry. When it was sparkling, she went up the stairs. By the time she got to Henry’s room, she saw Emma had already tucked him in. It physically struck her how right the two of them looked. Like a family. Emma looked up to her from her son’s bed, smiling with hateful forgiveness at being interrupted in her familial bliss. “Tell us a story, Regina.”

 

Regina would just show  _her_. There was one fairy tale she knew intimately.

 

Towering over the two of them in their bed, she began. “Once upon a time, in a far-off kingdom, a wise king and his beautiful queen had a daughter. In another story, the princess would be beloved by all her subjects, but she didn’t get a happy story. The nobles of the land knew that if they killed her, the king would have no heir. So the young princess’s first memory was of assassins and danger.”

 

Emma patted Henry’s arm. “Regina, are you sure this is such a great story for tonight?”

 

“Of course I’m sure. You love fairy tales, don’t you, son?”

 

Henry nodded mutely.

 

“Many would be broken by such a childhood, but the princess grew strong. To survive her enemies, she became crafty and ruthless. She found that trust was a luxury.”

 

The world had seemed so big when she’d realized it. She must’ve been tiny. It was funny; she couldn’t remember learning she was going to die, or that she was royalty, or anything else. But, clear as a bell, she remembered sneaking out of the castle to play in the little grove, chasing piglets with the farm girls. A week later, a little boy had started playing with them. After two days, he told her he had something to show her and in the woods, he’d taken out a knife.

 

She still had the scar on her lip. Magic couldn’t shrink it any further.

 

“But the princess’s life was not an unhappy one, for all her troubles. She learned all the courtly arts and all the most powerful magic. Her favorite lessons were with the court musician. The musician taught many young girls, and so for the first time, she was around children her own age. One of them was even younger than the princess, and she looked up to her. Also for the first time, the princess felt what it was like to be admired, respected, idolized… all the things a princess should be. What she didn’t know was that the little girl was really an ugly monster in disguise.”

 

Emma had her hand under Henry’s shirt, rubbing his back to relax. It looked like such an unpracticed gesture, coming so naturally to her, coming through the blood. It incensed Regina. So she smiled.

 

“One day, the princess returned from her music lesson to find her mother kissing someone who was not her father. She didn’t know what to do. She trusted her parents, but she couldn’t tell them about this. So she told the little girl. Why couldn’t she trust a little girl?”

 

And now she stopped smiling. The memory got into her lungs like tobacco smoke. She could’ve vomited it up. It was filthy, what her mother had been doing. Filthy and disgusting and wrong. She’d never debase herself like that. Sex was just a way of having power over someone, of taking pleasure from them, and Regina had much better ways of being powerful. Of taking her pleasure. She’d tried it, of course, the dark arts weren’t partial to purity, but it was nothing next to the power of walking down the street and knowing that everyone’s existence had been shaped by her without them even knowing it.

 

“The little girl knew that this was her chance. She told the king, and he… he sent the queen far, far away, where the princess could never see her again.”

 

She remembered the coffin. Glass, so she could see where her father had returned the favor, stabbing Mother through the heart. Later, she’d given Snow White the same courtesy. But of course that bitch couldn’t have just taken a quick death and run with it.

 

“The little girl grew up, and she tricked the people as she had tricked the princess. But the princess grew to adulthood as well, and she knew the truth. She swore to stop the little girl from hurting anyone else. But no matter what she tried, the girl was too powerful. Finally, the princess decided her vengeance was more important than herself. She gave up all her magical powers and sacrificed everything she had ever known, but she finally imprisoned her nemesis in a prison she would never escape from. And she lived happily ever after.”

 

“How?” Henry asked immediately. He wasn’t as cowed as Emma had feared.

 

“Well, she… founded a new kingdom. And all the people there liked and respected her.”

 

“Did she get married?”

 

“Of course not. She could never trust someone not to betray her.”

 

”The princess doesn’t sound very happy. She should fall in true love with a brave knight.”

 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Emma said.

 

“Fine,” Regina gritted out. “The princess fell in love with a fearless knight and they got married and had a kid who always went to bed when he was told.”

 

Emma clapped and Henry followed suit. Henry gave up staying awake just to be stubborn and curled up on his pillow. Emma patted the bed on the other side of Henry and Regina gave in just so Emma couldn’t say she wouldn’t and no sooner had Regina laid down than the boy snuggled into her.

 

“I’ll go check the house again,” Emma got up with a protest of bedsprings, leaving Henry’s little hand on the mattress, unconsciously reaching for her. Regina took hold and squeezed it.


	4. Chapter 4

Dispatch was quiet as the grave that night, like most. Graham would usually be back in his office, sneaking a nap, but the break-in at Regina’s had his blood up. He drove by her house and saw Emma’s car outside. He had a feeling no one would be doing Regina or her boy any harm that night.  
  
Back at the station, he showed Kathryn inside and took back his jacket. The central heating worked wonders on her, returning a flush to her bare skin. Sitting down at Emma’s desk, she wrapped herself in a blanket Emma had been using to block out a troublesome window which tended to cast light right in her face.  
  
Graham left her to it, returning with a fresh pot of coffee and something a little stronger—the bottle he kept in the last drawer on his desk. “Jim Bean,” he said, holding the bottleneck above her mug to offer a dollop. “Warm you right up.”  
  
Kathryn grabbed the bottle from him and did a chug. He raised an eyebrow, impressed, as she slammed the bottle down and wiped her mouth. “That’s better. Thanks.”  
  
“Don’t mention it.” He gingerly removed the bottle from her presence. “So… would you like me to call David? Tell him you’re alright and just… working late?”  
  
“He probably hasn’t noticed I’m gone. We spend so much time avoiding each other—maybe he just thinks I’ve gotten really good at it.”  
  
Graham pulled up a chair and sat down across from her. It wasn’t fair that she was hurting this much. None of it was her fault. All she wanted was to be loved; the spell had used that against them, tying her to David like a weight around his neck. No one had asked what it would do to her, being between true love but not having any of her own.  
  
“Look. This isn’t any of my business, but. But, it seems to me, what you miss isn’t David, not precisely. What you miss is the ways things were between the two of you. I know things were bad before we left; would you have wanted him back quite so much if you thought things were going to be that way instead of… a honeymoon?”  
  
“You don’t know what it was like back then.” Kathryn wasn’t near tears, not exactly, but she sounded perfectly exhausted. If she had tears, she would’ve shed them.  
  
“I know what it’s like now. You’ve got someone—they seem just perfect. Beautiful and smart and strong. The kind of person anyone would be lucky to have. And you have them, so if you’re not happy, it must be a problem with you. But some things just aren’t meant to be.”  
  
Her face twitched. She reached for the bottle absently before realizing it wasn’t there. “Why not?”  
  
He shrugged. “It isn’t written.”  
  
And she stood, so abruptly he was almost afraid she would run off, hurt herself tripping around in the night. “What do I do? Christ, what do I do?”  
  
More than anything, Graham wished he could tell her something. That there was something she could do to save her marriage, to make David hers, to be happy again without becoming miserable first. But there wasn’t.  
  
He was putting her out of her misery. That’s what he told himself. Doing what had to be done to stop the queen. But it felt like an ugly kill, an arrow launched into an animal that lodged there instead of doing its job, bringing pain and fear instead of oblivion.  
  
“Have you thought of letting him go?”  
  
“Go? But he’s my—“  
  
“Ask him if he would like to see other people. Just… just to see how that goes down. Maybe he’ll try it and it won’t feel right and he’ll come running back. Or maybe you’ll see that the relationship is gone and you need someone else to give you these things.”  
  
“But maybe he’ll stay.” Kathryn looked at him with pathetic hope. Cracks ran through her. She was one breath away from shattering. “Maybe he’ll get it out of his system.”  
  
“Maybe,” Graham said, and damned himself.  
  
***  
  
Regina woke up to find Henry still in the cradle of her arms, dead to the world. Her son had finally run out of energy.  
  
Getting up, she was surprised at how refreshed she felt. Didn’t all the shark attack victims on the Discovery Channel say they hadn’t slept for weeks after? Shouldn’t the same principle apply? And yet, she felt safe. Not even the nightmare of Henry abandoning her, with the same look on his face as all the others…  
  
Going downstairs with a satisfied yawn (and clutching her taser all the same), Regina was greeted by a perfume equal parts coffee, bacon, and pancake batter. She tried the kitchen door, taser held behind her back, and found Emma at a hot stove, looking both abashed and smug.  
  
“I saw your kitchen and couldn’t resist.”  
  
“After everything you’ve done, the least I can do is let you cook for me.” Regina ladled out sarcasm like dark chocolate.  
  
Emma smiled despite herself. “How do you like your coffee?”  
  
“Black. Like my heart.”  
  
“Whoa. A sense of humor.” Emma poured for Regina. “What’s next? Showtunes?”  
  
Regina grinned behind the mug she tilted to her lips. She sat down at the long table, stretched out past reason for just Henry and her, but already a little cozier with Emma on the other side of the island like she owned the place.  
  
Hmph.  
  
“So when are you leaving?” Regina asked, pushing her coffee away, only to have it replaced by a plate of steaming eggs.  
  
“After the locksmith gets here.” With a smile like that, Emma would’ve gotten a lot of tips as a waitress. “I saw a Lifetime movie once where one turned out to be Ashley Judd’s abusive ex-husband in disguise. Plus, her boss didn’t respect her because she was a woman.”  
  
Again, that smile that couldn’t be let out in the open. When it died: “It’s not that I don’t appreciate this…”  
  
Emma broke away to serve herself. “It’s just that you don’t trust me.”  
  
“I try to!” Regina said defensively. She speared an egg yolk and the yellow bleed made her even less hungry. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re not… you’re not part of my ending.”  
  
Sitting down across from her, Emma took a bite. She didn’t appear to taste her own cooking. “You should care more about beginnings and less about endings.”  
  
Regina scoffed. What kind of line was that? She should make an exit, most of her was screaming to, but Emma was too close, in her house, so she had nowhere to go to hide her interest. “And what do you want to begin here?” she asked, trying to be as snide as possible, her voice still lilting with interest.  
  
Emma’s smile was long-suffering and beautiful, like a saint’s. “A friendship. It’d be good for Henry. It’d be good for us.” Her fork chimed against her plate. She held it still.  
  
She was nervous. What did she have to be nervous about?  
  
Of course, she was talking to the evil queen, but Regina didn’t feel that way at the moment. “And how would it be good for me?” she demanded, her voice running away from her again. It came out terser than it should have. “Complimentary breakfast?”   
  
Emma was staring at her with, hellfire, sympathy. Her eyes reached into Regina and peeked under the veil Regina had drawn around her soul. Regina’s teeth clenched of their own accord. “You wouldn’t be so lonely.”  
  
Regina needed to be ice-cold to defend herself, but she couldn’t frost over. Something in her was burning out of control. It blocked off the part of her that usually dealt with Emma. “Lonely is another word for needing people. I don’t.”  
  
Emma stood so swiftly Regina could’ve gasped. She was suddenly towering over Regina, her jacket off, her shirt ruffled in the night, slack and untucked at her midriff. It settled in a lazy way across her breasts, showing their rise and fall, faster now. Emma was as nervous as she was. That was her only consolation.  
  
“You need Henry,” Emma said, breathing fire. Cooling but not calming, she walked around the table to Regina. “You need him so much, you’re choking the life out of him. Try needing someone who can choose to give to you. You shouldn’t have to force people to love you, there’s nothing wrong with you—“  
  
Regina stood with uppercut force, knocking her chair back. “Stop talking this second. This is still my house and at least here, you owe me some respect.”  
  
Emma never backed down from Regina. No, she inched closer. “I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t respect you,” she stated, her voice low and husky, like a snake charmer’s must sound to the snake. She eased deeper into Regina’s personal space, wanting to taste the adrenaline shooting through her veins. “You deserve to be loved. You deserve happiness.”   
  
They collided—just a bump as Regina tried to turn away, her elbow against Emma’s arm—and Regina broke. Something exploded in her, and like a fire it burned its way out, gutting her. “No I don’t!” Regina screamed in Emma’s face. “I’m supposed to feel this way, I’ve always felt this way! The only way someone could love me is if they were too stupid to know better; why do you think I adopted your damn kid? And even he sees through me. He smells it on me. They all smell it on me! I’m rotten—stop pretending you feel different.”   
  
Emma was shocked into silence (finally) by the tirade, but she still mutely shook her head through it. “It’s not pretend—“  
  
Of all the things Regina had borne, she couldn’t take this, more fake sympathy, more po-faced trickery from this woman. She needed to make Emma admit she found her repulsive. She had to force it out of her in a way she couldn’t go back on. Instinct drove her against Emma. It only took a heartbeat to close the distance between them and then the wrinkles of Emma’s shirt were pressing right through Regina’s thin silken robe to her skin, their lips were crashing together.  
  
Emma didn’t push her away. She didn’t gag or curse or any of the things Regina told herself she would do if Emma kissed her. She just put her arms around Regina and kissed her back. And Emma went down like a strong, strong drink, scorching Regina’s throat and warming her insides. Regina felt a slipperiness between her legs—like she was melting.  
  
She didn’t know anything anymore. Not how she felt about Emma, not how Emma felt about her, not what to do about it. Oh, but she was sure of one thing, pulling away, looking into Emma’s eyes and basking in the warmth.  
  
She wanted more.  
  
The doorbell rang. It doused Regina like a bucket of cold water. “That would be the locksmith.”  
  
“Yeah,” Emma confirmed, and the sound of her voice made Regina smolder.  
  
“And Henry will wake up soon,” Regina said. She wasn’t sure why. What could be more important than staying just like this?  
  
“Uh-huh,” Emma replied. She was biting her lip.  
  
Regina licked hers. “You just want to keep kissing me, don’t you?”  
  
Emma rested her forehead against Regina’s, the only way to keep their lips separate. “Hell yes.”  
  
“Please don’t…” As if drawing a nail out of her own flesh, Regina pushed Emma back. “Ever since I was a little girl I’ve been ruled by my passion. And all my life I’ve tried to be cool and collected. Regal. Now for the first time, I want to give in, but I don’t have to… I do bad things when I’m hotheaded. This is a good thing. But I still have to be able to control myself, especially when I don’t want to.”   
  
Regina’s robe had fallen open. Emma closed it like she was defusing a bomb—slow and careful. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”


	5. Chapter 5

# Then

 

How did you forget a kiss? Regina could bury guilt, pain, and most any other emotion. But how did you forget being happy? How did you stop comparing the rest of your life to it?

 

You didn’t. You just sat at your desk and didn’t get any work done and touched your lips now and again, once coming away with a trace of pink lipstick, so pale compared to Regina’s blood-red brand.

 

Then, like the sun coming to midday above Regina, a larger question seeped into the room. What had brought on that swell of self-pity? She hadn’t done anything wrong, not first at any rate. It wasn’t her fault her mother was dead, it was Snow White’s.

 

This was all Emma’s doing. She played the innocent to make Regina feel guilty for hating her. And now she’d used their shared connection to Henry to worm her way into Regina’s affections. It was intolerable, maddening. And the more Regina thought about it, the madder she got.

 

***

 

Emma’s day wasn’t going any smoother. Her thought process had shrunk to two thinks: ‘she feels the same way about me’ and “ _I_ feel the same way about her.’ The highlight reel from her kiss with Regina. Strange alchemy had taken her feelings for Regina. She’d resented her at first—how could she not? Regina had everything. Wealth, respect, a man, a kid. Emma had a jacket.

 

But she’d shifted quickly to détente with Regina, then friendship. They had things in common. There were times they spent together that bordered on girlishly gleeful—they performed for each other with jokes only the other would get. Their confidence, their uncertainty, masks upon masks, and somewhere underneath, there they were.

 

Emma’s feelings for Regina were a rapid, heady rush. She’d only been telling the truth in trying to reassure Regina; her offer to her after the kiss (some kind of family) had been pure instinct. She’d followed her heart or something lame like that.

 

She kept trying to think up reasons to call it off and then the kiss jumped back into her head and all she could think to do was let it play out. Flying on a prayer had gotten her this far; it’d gotten her Henry. Maybe it could give her more. Was that what they called fate?

 

A phone call stopped her before she started ovulating like a teen girl at an N’Sync concert. It was Old Mrs. Gothel, the mayor’s secretary. Regina wanted a sitdown.

 

Finally, Emma’s one-track mind broke out of its rut. In the space of a heartbeat, her head was filled with a thousand guesses about what Regina wanted to say to her.

 

***

 

# Now

 

With Henry having a sleepover at Peter Banning’s, Regina had the manor all to herself. And it was stunningly empty. She considered calling Emma, decided to take a walk. The sunset looked lovely. She’d never noticed that before. She still preferred the night to what came before. It was cool, soft, and inviting, with an orchestra of crickets and owls instead of cars and cell phones. Then the light came. Red and blue, with the accompaniment of a siren. A brief whoop, just to announce the arrival. Regina turned around to see Emma’s cruiser pulled up to the curb. The deputy aimed the car’s searchlight at her. “Evening.”

 

“It certainly is.”

 

“Sass. Not a great start.” Emma stepped out of the car. She wore the crisp brown uniform the town provided for its police department, her badge and cuffs catching the searchlight as she stepped in front of it. “What are you doing out this late, ma’am?”

 

“Walking.”

 

“Now what’d I say about sass?” Hand on her nightstick, thumb rubbing the handle, Emma closed in. “You always walk around dressed like that?”

 

Regina smoothed her hands over her pencil skirt and dark red blouse. Prudish it wasn’t. Which she wanted to hear. “Dressed like what?”

 

Emma’s lip twitched upward in appraisal. “Like you’re about to get fucked.”

 

Regina’s cheeks burned. “You ask a question like that when you don’t want sass?”

 

Shit-eating grin. “Why don’t you put your hands on the hood?”

 

The night breeze against Regina’s face just reminded her of how heated she was. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

 

“Why don’t you do it now?” Emma asked, casually twirling her nightstick.

 

Regina held her hands up, long fingers splayed, and placed them on the hood of Emma’s car. Her ass jutted out and she felt Emma’s eyes rake over it. So predictable.

 

Emma started under Regina’s arms, the tips of her slender fingers almost touching the sides of Regina’s breasts, but the sensation was fleeting as Emma continued the patdown. Regina bit her lip at the entirely unwholesome frustration she felt.

 

“Don’t get excited,” Emma chided. Her hands clapped at Regina’s ribs. “I know how you girls love a man in uniform.”

 

“You count?”

 

With more force than necessary, Emma slapped her hands onto Regina’s hips and left them there, fingers sinking into the mayor’s voluptuous curves. Her sensible wardrobe kept them well-hidden, but a hazmat suit couldn’t have kept them concealed from Emma’s prying finger. “I’m more than man enough for you, sweetheart.”

 

Now Emma’s hands slid downward, making their presence felt against the curb of Regina’s buttocks, down to her toned thighs. Regina’s skirt came down to her knees, and she shivered as Emma covered the distance, gripping the hem with all the tightness she so clearly would’ve liked to use on Regina. As Regina breathed in bullish fits, anger and desire swirling in her belly, her skirt was lifted up and she was left exposed to the world—most especially Deputy Emma Swan.

 

“Is this man enough for you?” Emma rasped in Regina’s ear, as her fingers circled Regina’s waist, ceaselessly crossing from the elastic band of her panties to the oversensitive warmth of bare flesh. “Wouldn’t you love a man to treat you this way before he sticks a hard cock inside you?”

 

“I won’t be spoken to in this manner-“ Regina said, fitfully. Her voice was barely strained, but it sounded horribly lustful to her own ears. Like an animal baying at the moon.

 

“What would you prefer? A sonnet?” Emma’s fingers dipped into her crotch. They were so cold—and Regina was so warm…

 

“D-deputy,” Regina said, not nearly firmly enough. Those fingers were just inches away from where they needed to be. And Regina felt a strange weight there, a heft against her aching core, almost relieving her before it was pulled away. It wasn’t Emma’s fingers. It was a baggie.

 

“What’s this?” Emma asked, as rhetorically as a college professor.

 

Regina jerked her shirt back down around her legs. “You planted that!”

 

Emma already had hands on Regina, tangled in her hair and locked around her arm. Dominating her. “Let’s go,” she commanded, shoving Regina toward the backseat.

 

***

 

# Then

 

Emma drove to town hall, took the stairs two at a time, shuffled into the waiting room, and spent thirty minutes asking herself what Regina was occupied with that was more important than her. Then she shouldered her way into the office.

 

Regina was behind her desk, a hardwood construction even more imposing than the black slab at her home. She was dressed in funeral-black, every hair in place, her eyes mirrors for how much they gave. Her armor was up and shining bright enough to blind. “It’s alright, Mrs. Gothel,” Regina said, addressing the secretary following Emma in before the woman she kissed last night. “I’d just finished.”

 

Emma wondered what was on her computer screen. A game of Solitaire? “Did you want to talk, Madame Mayor, or do you just like having me around?”

 

“Sit down, deputy. Mrs. Gothel, shut the door behind you.” Every word she spoke froze in the open air.

 

Emma got closer, braving the chill, and leaned on the offered chair. “Talk.”

 

“I’ll be brief, in deference to your attention span.” Regina folded her hands and kneaded them together like she was crushing something. “I’d just like to say that I did not welcome your advances the other night, and while I don’t think an official reprimand is necessary, I would appreciate if you acted with more professionalism in the future.”

  
”What the  _fuck_  are you talking about?” Emma exploded, all bomb, no fuse.

 

“Last night, acting in the capacity of a peace officer, you entered my home, feeling the need to ‘protect me,’ and made a sexual overture to me. Do you feel that’s appropriate behavior for the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department?”

 

In the past year, Emma had been confronted by her long-lost son, ambush-kissed twice, and saved a psychologist from a collapsed mine. She’d never lacked for a retort before. She might as well have been speechless. “I don’t believe this!”

 

Regina’s fingers tightened to white. “I suggest you start, Miss Swan. Sexual harassment is a very serious offense.”

 

Words burnt their way out of Emma, flaring up like gasoline kissing a match.  _“You_ kissed  _me_!”

 

Regina had the gall to smile. About anything else, Emma might’ve admired that in her. “I can’t speak for your recollection of events, but as the victim, I’m sure my word will be given more credence than yours.”

 

And that was it. Emma’s head was screaming for her to back out and her gut was aching to punch Regina’s smug face in, but her heart, it demanded she prove Regina a liar. It hadn’t been a game, or a mistake, or something unrequited. It was real, the kind of real that was so true it could only be in stories. They built fables around it.

 

***

 

# Now

 

It took minutes for Regina to catch her breath, minutes more for her to speak. Emma had left her in a hell of a state. And the worst part was, she appeared totally blasé to the distress she’d left Regina in, handcuffed and locked into the backseat of the cruiser, a mesh between her and the woman who had set her on fire. She tried to cram her white-hot heat into anger.

 

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” she informed Emma, every word dripping with bitterness.

 

“Streetwalkers have lawyers?” Emma replied easily. “What do you pay him in, fishnets?”

 

“Hundred dollar bills, actually. And he’s worth every penny.”

 

In the rear-view mirror, Regina saw Emma’s eyes come up to meet hers. “And are you?”

 

“Am I what?”

 

Regina saw Emma’s eyes go lower, and felt the prick of their gaze on her breasts. Almost against her will, they rose with a deep breath. “Worth every penny.”

 

Regina exhaled. “I’m a bargain at any price,” she said smartly.

 

“But not a streetwalker.”

 

She flipped her hair, fixing the rear-view mirror with a dismissive glance. “You wish. The only way you could get me into bed would involve a credit card.” She leaned closer to the mesh. Through it, she could just smell Emma’s scent, far too rough to be a perfume. “Or maybe not.”

 

“Maybe?” Emma asked, just starting to sound uncertain.

 

Regina sidled closer, perching herself on the edge of her seat, her words hitting the back of Emma’s neck as she spoke. “Your personality leaves something to be desired, but through no merit of your own, you have nice bone structure. There’s potential there.”

 

Emma took a hard turn that jammed Regina against the window. “Oh, the bitches in county lock-up are going to love you. They’re big on cuddling.”

 

The trip had left Regina’s skirt riding up her legs, a daring expanse of thigh on display. She made no move to cover up, even though if Emma so much as turned her head, she’d know the color of Regina’s panties. “Look, officer, I’m a busy woman. Maybe there’s a quick and easy way to make both our lives simpler.”

 

“My life’s simple enough,” Emma replied. But she turned her head.

 

Regina was wearing red. “Is it wicked enough?”

 

“…depends…”

 

Regina looked out the window. They were passing through the woods. The deep, dark woods. The mist was rolling in. The predators were out, fulfilling their appetites. “Pull over here and I’m yours. You can do whatever you want and I won’t tell. But afterwards, I walk.”

 

Emma hit the brakes. She might as well have sped up.

 

*******

 

**Then**

 

Emma unzipped her jacket.

 

Regina followed the parting leather like it was a fuse burning down. When the jacket fell open, her eyes tried to be angry, tried to meet Emma’s gaze, but they were caught. They stirred constantly, drawn like magnets. She didn’t look smug anymore.

 

“Looks like I’ve caught your attention, Madame Mayor.” Emma fingered the left strap of her tanktop until it slipped. “Let’s see if I can catch a little more.”

 

Now Regina met Emma’s eyes, pure anger trying to make her batten down the hatches. “You’re fired. For starters.” It was a nice tactic, but Emma had seen it before. Fury as a shield to block out everything else. “I’m not sure a civil suit is out of the question. Emotional duress, sexual assault…”

 

Emma took her shirt off. Regina barely faltered. “And-and as for that paternity suit I know you’re planning, I’m certain no judge would think this is the behavior of a fit parent!”

 

Emma got closer, her bra leading the way. She had great breasts. She knew it. Regina knew it. Her eyes shook like they didn’t know where to look first. Certainly not at Emma’s face.

 

“You know what word I didn’t hear in there? Stop.”

 

Bending at the waist, Emma mounted Regina’s desk on all fours. Now Regina’s eyes were laser-focused, staring down the canyon of her breasts. Emma slowly rose to a kneel, looked down into Regina’s eyes, and took off her bra.

 

Regina’s mouth was slack, her lips gently parted, and her eyes actually a little glazed as Emma leaned into her space, her hands now setting down on the armrests of Regina’s chair, her lips approaching Regina’s once more. This time, they both knew it wouldn’t be hard and fast like the first time. It would be soft, slow, dream-like, like the entire scene. Every shrill word in Regina’s arsenal couldn’t puncture the aura around them. She tried anyway.

 

“You can’t do this,” Regina insisted, her mind fleeing back to fairy tales. Emma was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Yes, her parents had been a shameless whore and a man who’d left his fiancée, but still, they were goody-two-shoes. This wasn’t in their blood. “It’s not… not… good!”

 

Emma sunk into Regina’s lap, her lips perilously close to Regina’s but never closing the distance, her weight and warmth suddenly an overwhelming force against Regina. Regina felt her body betray her; she was freezing cold and burning up all at once. Her lips itched, but she couldn’t move her hands. She felt Emma, her skin and her breasts and nipples like stone press against her body.

 

“I think you’ll like me a whole lot better when I’m bad,” Emma whispered, and her voice made Regina clench deep inside. Her eyelids fluttered with all of the magic bearing down on her, Emma’s touch and Emma’s eyes and Emma’s kiss that was almost but not quite hers. Regina was soaked in gasoline and holding up a match and if she let it go, she’d burn.

 

She let go.

 

The inch of space between their lips disappeared, Regina locking herself to Emma, her hands painting Emma from her wonderfully bare back to the beautiful denim of her jeans, all the way down to her boots. Regina had always liked those goddamn boots.

 

“So that’s how to shut you up,” Emma muttered as Regina buried her face in her breasts like she never intended a return trip. “Good to know.”

 

Regina grabbed her by the hair and threw her down on the desk, where she showed Emma her own way of making a woman speechless.

 

***

 

# Now

 

When Emma pulled Regina out of the backseat, she wondered if the deputy’s goosepimples were from the cold or just from her. The cool air caressed Regina, fingering her nipples to a stinging hardness, slapping her sex with just enough force. The only thing that couldn’t have come out of an especially vivid fantasy was the look on Emma’s face—concern.

 

“Are you sure no one comes up here?” she asked, her voice no longer gruff, but the more soppy mien she used on the kittens she no doubt rescued from trees.

 

“For the last time, it’s my town, Emma.” With the force of a headbutt, Regina planted a kiss on Emma. Her new facial expression was a marked improvement. “Now stop breaking character, I’m wetter than high tide.”

 

And that finally got the reaction Regina was looking for. Emma spun her around and bent her over the hood, the cold metal’s temperature penetrating to Regina’s very core. She felt like she had been  _entered_  and Emma had barely touched her.

 

“By the way,” Emma said, in a voice halfway between normal conversation and her domineering character—something that especially worked for Regina. “I cleaned my nightstick.”

 

“Damn right you did.”

 

With a firm slap on the rump, Emma was back in character and back in charge—if she’d ever stopped. “Nice panties. Mind if I borrow them?”

 

Regina smirked. “They’re worth more than you make in a month.”

 

“So I guess you don’t want them getting all wet when you come in your pants?” Brusquely, Emma forced Regina’s skirt practically to her ribcage and ripped the panties down her legs. She’d done it just in the nick of time. Regina was having her own little monsoon season. And she’d waxed, extensively. Emma wondered if Regina was control-freak enough to do that regularly or if it was something special for tonight. Either one hit a kink.

 

“I’ll expect those back in pristine condition,” Regina ordered, and uttered a shrill note of protest when Emma balled them up. Even in the real world, they were quite expensive, and game or no game, Emma could not—

 

Emma forced the panties into Regina’s mouth. As a gag, they left something to be desired, but as a message, they were heard loud and clear.

 

“I like making the quiet ones moan,” Emma said. “But you’re loud. We’ll see about taking those out later. When you have something—constructive to add.”

 

Constructive. The kind of language Regina herself might’ve used. The echo made Regina’s knees knock. So this was how it felt; to have all the power and none of it at the same time.

 

She didn’t know when the idea had first occurred to her—long before Emma, certainly. Naturally, the idea of dominating another person had appealed to her—she was queen, after all, why wouldn’t her reign extend into the bedroom? And Graham might not’ve been an intellectual vanguard, but he was certainly pliable. Regina had been using some of her office hours—one of the nice things about time being stopped was that there were no consequences for procrastinating—to research new ways for him to serve her.

 

And she’d found images of women being under another’s control. Not that of a man—she could never give herself to Graham like that. But other women.

 

There was no woman in Storybrooke strong enough to subjugate Regina like that, which made it a particularly safe fantasy. If, for whatever reason (and there were a few), Graham didn’t satisfy her, she could sink into the dream of being told exactly what to do by someone who  _knew_  exactly what to do for the both of them to reach scintillating pleasure.

 

And that would’ve been the end of it, the showerhead, her fingers, occasionally something more… mechanical. Only Emma had come to town. And seduced her. And somehow convinced her that she was safe to share even something as private as this.

 

She’d have thought Emma would be horrified, or mortified. Maybe she really was as pure as they all said, and she’d be shocked by Regina’s vulgar fantasy life. Or, far more likely for a woman who’d had a baby in prison (Regina tried to cut down on such uncharitable thoughts now that they were dating, instead focusing on things like Emma’s dimples and the lovingly lived-in smell of her jacket, which clung to her skin just before she showered), she’d be embarrassed by such a vanilla fantasy. Just a little spanking and harsh language, no gagging or whips or any of the other things she’d needed with Graham.

 

Instead, she’d just nodded and summoned the most intrigued  _grin…_  “Single mother. Mayor. ‘Criminal mastermind’. I guess I would like to let off some steam too. Let someone else take the wheel.”

 

Regina had nodded almost desperately. “Lose control.”

 

And so, on the night of Henry’s sleepover, instead of worrying over him watching an R-rated movie and having mental scars, they’d arranged a little… adventure. It was, perhaps, a little less mystical than all the other fairy tale characters got, but Regina could definitely see the appeal.

 

And so could Emma, holding up the handcuff key, nowhere near good enough an actress to hide the gleam in her eyes. “Now then. I’m going to unlock you for a minute. Run, I’ll ride you down and fuck you on the ground.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. This had been her idea after all. They’d have to talk about Emma laying it on so thick.

 

Emma pressed herself against Regina as she unlocked her, the chilled metal of her belt buckle digging into Regina’s buttocks. Coupling that with the fabric of her skirt pressing against her bare sex, the most interesting friction between them, gave Regina a prophetic dream of an orgasm.

 

Only Emma grabbed her by the throat and  _squeezed_ , jamming her head against the hood hard enough to crink the metal. “You don’t come until I let you,” she said. It worked. Regina’s climax receded, larger and angrier for being denied. She moaned through her own sodden panties.

 

“Now then,” Emma repeated, gathering up Regina’s limp arms and spaghetti-strand legs to help her up onto the hood, resting her against the windshield. “Now then, now then, now then.” It had become a drawl, a lip-licking refrain as she surveyed Regina’s body. Her jacket was open, her blouse was thin, and her skirt was hitched. Regina felt not exposed, but wanton. Desired. She was the fairy tale princess, destined to be woken with a kiss. Only Emma wouldn’t be waiting for a church wedding and musical number to have her. They’d fuck in a glass coffin if they had to.

 

Emma drew Regina’s arms up, pulling her taut and thrusting her chest out. Regina could barely breathe, she felt so… peaceful. She had no control, but with one word she could put a stop to this. Yet she didn’t need to. She had Emma. The most trustworthy woman she’d ever met. As if sensing Regina’s loving thoughts, Emma met her eyes, gave her a little wink, and hooked the cuffs around the cruiser’s lightbar before closing them again. Regina was strung up like a piece of meat, and ridiculously, the thought sent a fresh surge of arousal through her.

 

“You wanna get off?” Emma asked, her voice giving no clue to which of the phrase’s meanings she meant. Her own breath hitching, she pulled Regina’s skirt off. “You’re going to have to earn it.”

 

Regina spiked her hips desperately, inviting any contact. She could see the temptation in Emma’s eyes, but the blonde just slapped her hand down on Regina’s stomach and pressed her down to the car hood. Regina laid still. It struck her physically how Emma was in charge; it hit her like a lightning bolt. She moaned through her gag.

 

Emma actually licked her lips as she held the nightstick just shy of Regina’s sex. She took her hand away. Regina held herself very still. With a spreading smile, Emma rapped the nightstick against Regina’s pussy. It was barely a tap, briefly flitting inside, but it took all the will Regina had not to flail her hips, trying to get more into her.

 

“Good girl,” Emma praised, tapping Regina’s sex again. A tremor went through Regina’s body; an uncontrollable spasm. Emma mercilessly prodded her again and a helpless moan was drawn out through her gag.

 

All Regina’s thoughts of control, pride, and perfection had vaporized. This bore no resemblance to the happy ending she’d planned for herself and she couldn’t even be bothered to compare the two. Emma was seeing her at what she once would’ve called her worst—a lustful, wanton animal—and Regina couldn’t care less. It all felt so good.

 

Emma brought the nightstick up to Regina’s face, letting her get a good look at it. It was an inch or two thick, and maybe a foot long—Regina was having a hard time being analytical at the moment. And she could smell herself on it.

 

She nearly went cross-eyed as Emma pulled the nightstick away, dragging it down Regina’s body, between her breasts and over her soft belly, down to her clenched thighs. Regina opened herself for Emma, spreading her legs to either side of the hood. “ _Very_  good,” Emma chimed, and fed the very tip of the nightstick into Regina’s waiting sex.

 

Regina couldn’t help herself. Her hips surged, wanting more, but Emma was ready for her. She slammed her forearm down across Regina’s waist like she was just another fleeing suspect and forced her to hold still as she gave Regina another inch, agonizingly slow. Regina rolled her hips, trying desperately not to do more, and Emma allowed it.

 

Regina let her eyes roll back in her head—she couldn’t take the sight of Emma hunched over her, a breathless look on her face as even she was taken aback by how much Regina wanted it—it’d been so long, not even since Graham, not even since she’d cast the spell, no, she’d  _never_  felt like this, with anyone, and it wasn’t just the nightstick or the handcuffs or the sight of Emma in a very fetching uniform. It was something Regina was absolutely not going to be thinking about when she could be  _feeling_. Her mind raced. Her body burnt. When the nightstick stopped, it didn’t even come as a surprise, but just another step in their coupling.

 

Emma took her hands away, and that did get Regina’s attention. She pulled the gag from Regina’s mouth and tucked Regina’s panties into her pocket. Regina looked down to see half of the nightstick protruding from her, a sorta mischievous expression on Emma’s face—‘look ma, no hands.’ “Fuck, you’re tight.”

 

“Makes you wish you had a cock, doesn’t it?”

 

“A little, actually.”

 

Regina did have a very useful spell for that, not that she had magic and not that she could tell Emma anything about it—and  _that_  hit home, taking her back to where she lived. Emma was Mary Margaret’s daughter and Mary Margaret was the enemy and Christ, what would she think if she _knew_.

 

But then Emma was straddling Regina, ripping her blouse open, pulling her bra away. Regina’s breasts were already heaving, her nipples as hard as stone. Emma reached down, took one in her fingers, and twisted. Not a lot, not even as hard as Regina had done to herself thinking of a night like this one, but enough to send ripples of desire through Regina’s body. Suddenly, she had a desperate, awestruck  _need_  for Emma. She needed the woman to be a part of her, her blood, her bones, her beating heart.

 

“Emma,” she pleaded. “ _Please._ ”

 

“Yes,” Emma said simply, backing away, popping her belt, opening her fly, tugging her panties out of the way. She took hold of the nightstick and impaled herself on the handle. Instantly, Regina felt connected to her, like the same desire was running through both of them. They shuddered with the same pleasure, the nightstick’s motion touching both of them.

 

Emma couldn’t keep up the act. She just set her jaw as she drove herself onto the nightstick right up to the side handle, letting it separate them, leaving the lion’s share of the makeshift dildo to Regina. Almost gently, she bent down to Regina, the motion driving more of the nightstick inside, the nightstick driving a series of mewling whimpers from Regina’s mouth.

 

It wasn’t until their bodies pressed together, the nightstick lost between them, the grip separating them, that Regina finally let loose, a low and gasping cry of ownership. Emma flexed the nightstick inside her and Regina grunted, she groaned, she threw her head back and nearly broke Emma’s windshield. But it wasn’t just that; it was feeling Emma’s uniform rubbing against her, the caress of her khakis and the cool bite of her badge and beneath it all, Emma’s body, as heated and sensitive as hers.

 

“We’re all alone out here,” Emma said, her voice dipping huskily into Regina’s ear. “No one can see the all-powerful mayor getting reamed like a bitch.” She dashed her hips against Regina’s, shifting the nightstick inside them and the sound of Emma’s clenched-teeth pleasure was more arousing than anything below Regina’s waist. “No one can hear you crying out like a whore.” Regina felt like protesting that she hadn’t  _actually_  cried out, but a deep thrust from Emma proved that a lie. “No one can hear you scream for me. You’re going to do that, aren’t you Regina? When you  _come…_ ”

 

“How are you doing this to me?” Regina demanded as best she could, the inquiry coming out in breathy gulps.

 

Emma leaned down to her ear. “I’m  _really_  hot.”

 

Regina actually giggled. Emma laughed too, gathering Regina’s face in her hands and kissing her. Regina felt a fresh surge of arousal shoot outwards from her lips like a shockwave. She’d never admit it, but it was much more than the fact that Emma was a very fetching young woman.

 

Regina accidentally rattled her cuffs in her pleasure, and Emma paused for a moment, reaching for the key…

 

“No, no,” Regina moaned. “Finish me off.”

 

The same overpowering lust that had taken over Regina flashed in Emma’s eyes. That’s what made it bearable. It wasn’t being dominated that Regina liked. She could’ve had that with Graham, or Maleficent, or any of her other lovers. This was something else, something they were equally powerless before. It was like a magic spell robbing them both of their wits, replacing it with an obscene ecstasy.

 

Emma coiled her arms around Regina’s back, the mere act drawing them closer together and shifting the nightstick inside them. The side handle dug into their thighs and Emma reached down to rotate it, bringing it up so it was oriented between their clits.

 

“Oh God,” Regina swore, seeing what Emma was planning.

 

“I’ll answer to deputy,” Emma replied smugly. “Maybe ‘your grace’.”

 

Regina drove her hips up, fucking the handle into Emma’s sex and sawing the side handle over her clit. Emma threw her head back and swore desperately, “Fuck!” Regina did it again; “Shit!” And again. “Goddamnit!” As obviously un-role-model-y as it was, Regina could get to like Emma’s pottymouth.

 

With a muttered “holy crap,” Emma tightened her grip on Regina and thrust into her. Regina lost all pretense of control then, her clit turning on her and the rest of her body following suit, her muscles straining against her will, her skin heating up and oozing sweat and begging for Emma’s touch. Her legs flew up and wrapped around Emma’s hips, desperate for more.

 

“Say it,” Emma commanded, holding back, lowering her thrusts to a slow, sinuous friction.

 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

 

Emma rewarded her, going faster and harder, now a steady metronome beat inside Regina. “More.”

 

“I need you to fuck me. I love the way you fuck me,” Regina moaned, almost dreamily.

 

Her arms clasped around the mayor’s ribs, Emma licked at Regina’s offered-up breasts, tasting sweat and something uniquely Regina—something like the aftertaste of a crisp, perfect apple.

 

“How much do you love it?” Emma demanded, speeding up, now getting a steady series of involuntary groans from Regina’s sated, wanting body.

 

“More that—more than anything.” Regina’s words came out airily, high-pitched. She was almost out of breath. “You’re the best, goddamnit!”

 

“The best at what?” Emma insisted, going so hard that the car rocked under them, the metal screeching in protest as it was crinkled.

 

Arching her back so her head fell back against the car, Regina fell her nipples join her body’s rebellion as Emma sucked them into her mouth, one by one. “B-b-best at making me come.” Her head lolled to the side, breath fogging up the windshield.

 

“That what you want?” Emma was pounding her like a jackhammer now, lost in her own pleasure as much as Regina’s, the car see-sawing back and forth. Their juices mingled and ran over the hood. Later, Emma would have a hell of a time cleaning off the ‘SERVE’ on ‘TO SERVE AND PROTECT’.

 

Regina was beyond words at this point. She could only nod frantically. Her pleasure was overwhelming and constant, so powerful it was close to agony. She never wanted it to end and she needed it to stop, just so she could catch her breath. She needed to orgasm. She needed both of them to orgasm, at the same time, to be even closer, to share one thing more.

 

“Say it!” Emma ordered, bearing down on Regina even harder.

 

“Yes. Yes! I love it! I love you! I—“

 

And Regina lost all control. Her body went completely under Emma’s spell, mindlessly undulating to match the fucking Emma was giving her. She was a volcano, lava in her veins, smoke scalding its way out of her, needing to erupt. Her senses were burnt to cinders in the conflagration. She thrashed underneath Emma, mouth open, heels pounding the hood, screaming incoherently.

 

Emma kissed her ceaselessly, touched her lips to her mouth and neck and cheek and nose, taking her fill while Regina was lost in bliss. Regina could be so sparing at other times, especially in public, doling out affection like she had to cut it out of herself. But at that moment, she was a feast.

 

Finally, Regina caught her breath. Took Emma’s lips before she could peck her chin and shared the kind of soulful kiss Emma thought they saved for romance novels. Emma took it in stride, working the nightstick out from between them and rolling off Regina. As long as the mayor was handcuffed, she took the opportunity to nuzzle against the side. Regina was just the right amount of soft—curvy and voluptuous, but firm too. In her orgasm-y haze, Emma wondered if Regina had loofah ancestry.

 

“And you just got done cleaning your nightstick,” Regina observed with mock-regret.

 

“Mmm,” Emma agreed, pursing her lips. “Hey, what’d you say there, at the end? I wasn’t listening.”

 

“Couldn’t have been anything too important. The lock, if you don’t mind?”

 

“Let me see if I can find the key…”

 

“Now, Deputy Swan.”

 

Emma unlocked Regina, taking one last look at how nice her boobs looked with her shoulder blades pushed together. She came back down, kissing the top of Regina’s head. Regina groaned in joking disgust. Emma didn’t think it was too funny.

 

“Now then,” Regina said, putting her own wicked twang on Emma’s words. “Henry’s still having his sleepover and I’ve been reliably informed that women can perform certain… tasks to a greater extent than our male counterparts. What would you say if I suggested we go back to the manor, fix ourselves a sound meal, and see how you like a little restraint?”

 

Emma ran her finger from Regina’s clavicle all the way down, and didn’t hit a stitch of clothing on the way. Something about Regina’s careless nudity was making her very amenable. “That sounds fun, Regina. But you did promise that after we fulfilled your fantasy…” With her finger stopped just short of where she knew Regina would like it, Emma snuggled into Regina, biting her ear. “It’s time for mine.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

What the hell was she doing? Kathryn asked herself that and a few related questions—“What the fuck am I doing? What in God’s name am I doing? What the hell?”—as she walked away from their home. Hers and David’s. So not their home at all, really.

They’d talked. She’d talked, he’d just sat there. Shocked by the entire notion? Or already thinking of Mary Margaret? In an aching, freeing way, it didn’t matter. Kathryn had said her piece and if nothing else, she had walked away with her pride. There’d be no affair under her nose. There wouldn’t be lies and yelling and lawyers, like her parents had had. For her, things would end with a whimper.

She’d asked him if he would want to see other people. She’d explained why she herself thought it was a good idea. She’d told him that they’d both been through a lot and before they got sucked into their marriage (those were her words, ‘sucked in’), they should explore all their options.

And he’d nodded. And said “This happens to every couple.” And pointed out that this wasn’t anyone’s fault (bad things were always someone’s fault). And that the important thing was that they were being honest with each other.

But mostly he’d nodded.

And now he was out and the house was so empty and she felt like she’d escaped moments before suffocating. She was barely dressed—her jacket more of an ensemble piece than a protection against the night air, and it was chilly that night, a cold front heavier than Kathryn had ever seen. But there was just a block to go and she couldn’t turn back. She could give up on her husband, but not this.

The moment she saw the house, a dog started barking. It figured a cop would have a good alarm system. She braved the increasingly feral noise to ring the doorbell. Of course, Graham was already at the door. She wondered if he’d already had the gunbelt on or if it was just for the mystery guess.

“Kathryn. Hi.” It took him a moment to stop looking into her eyes. Then he noticed her skirt and the blue tint her bare legs had picked up. “God, Kathryn! You’re catching your death out there!”

“Can I--?”

“Come in, come in.” He ushered her in and slammed the door behind her, cutting off the night air. Instantly, Kathryn felt her inner thermometer go up five degrees. “What’s happened? Did your car break down?”

“No. Nothing. Nothing like that—“

Graham didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes signaled his understanding. David. “Well. I suppose that settles it. I’ll be building a fire tonight.”

***

Graham already had his firewood cut, the ax stuck in a stump in the backyard (Kathryn’s mental image was straight off a Harlequin cover). He trekked outside to fetch a few logs and came in blowing in his hands. “Zooks. Temperature’s plummeting. Come morning, I think I’ll send the department on some courtesy calls, make sure no one’s freezing.”

“Good idea,” Kathryn said, trying to repress a giggle while he was talking about little old ladies freezing to death. “Zooks? Is that what they say in Ireland?”

He looked guilty for a moment, like he was hiding something. Maybe he was with the IRA. “Just a bit of slang…”

“What? Is it something you’re not supposed to say in the presence of a lady?”

“No, I’m… I’m good about controlling myself in a lady’s presence.”

She sneezed before she could torture him more. Graham nearly dropped the stack in his rush to get it into the fireplace.

“There’s some tea in the kitchen,” he said, his back to her. “I know it’s not coffee, but it’s hot.”

She came back with two cups. One for him and one for her. He took the cup she offered and the warmth of the one in her hand dug into her fingers. They drank. He stayed crouched down in front of the fireplace, looking up at her. It reminded her of how David had proposed. No, he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, he’d put an engagement ring in her champagne glass. This went back further. To how she’d imagined a proposal would be as a little girl believing in fairy tales.

He stood, towering over her again. “What are you doing here, Kathryn?” Maybe it was meant to come out gruff, but it didn’t. It tickled her ear, as soft as a feather.

“I took your advice. About David.”

“Goddamn,” he said, looking at the fire.

She drank her tea, hoping for whatever reason that he would follow suit. But Graham was a statue.

“He’s with Mary Margaret now. He’s going to stay with her.” Even as she said it, she knew it was true.

He looked at her again. “I’m sorry.”

“And I’m not. All I feel is happy for him. I think I was ready for this. All the while he was in his coma, I was ready for this. I just needed it to… get here.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “Did you come here—is that why you came here? So I could tell you it’s good that you’re not hurting?”

She didn’t say anything. She had really done it. She had come into his house and presented herself to him and there were no feelings of betrayal, no doubt, no regrets. It’d been so long since she could say that. She luxuriated in the feel of it.

“I should get the fire going,” he said. There were matches on the coffee table, part of the bric-a-brac that had accumulated there. He grabbed them, wadded up some junk mail, and plugged the gaps in the wood. He felt Kathryn’s shadow on him as he knelt under the mantel, facing away from her. He lit the match and didn’t touch it to the wood. He didn’t want to eclipse the spark of warmth as her fingers brushed the back of his neck.

“I’m not here to show David that I still deserve to be loved. I’m showing myself.”

She crouched down beside him. He was motionless again. Spellbound.

“The only thing that feels right is helping you. That’s the only thing that feels at all. But I don’t know if I love you. The last woman I loved broke my heart.”

The match burned down, singed his finger. He tossed it into the fireplace even as Kathryn put his scorched fingers in her mouth. The pain was gone instantly. Replaced.

“Let’s start with sex,” she said, “and work our way up.”

***

Mary Margaret’s apartment boasted a fireplace that could roast a wild boar. The heat spread out through the living room like the smell of a fresh-cooked meal, and the light made Emma look like she’d spent a month in Bermuda, working on her tan. Despite the cold she’d set the fire against, her uniform was open to the tanktop. She liked the way Regina kept trying not to look at the girls.

“This is your fantasy?” Regina asked, temporarily successful.

“You’re scandalized now, Bettie Page?” Regina’s eyes flashed incomprehension. “She did bondage photos.”

“Of course you’d know that.” Regina looked at the TV, where the DVD menu had looped. ‘The Sweetest Thing.’ “I tell you I want to have kinky sex and you tell me you want to watch a rom-com?”

“Relationships don’t work if all you do is have sex. Trust me, I tried that in college.” Emma flapped open her jacket a little further. “We can cuddle.”

Regina crossed her legs like she did everything else, exquisitely. “Emma, why is your deepest fantasy for me to watch a _romantic comedy_ with you?”

“I don’t know.” Emma got up. The popcorn in Mary Margaret’s popper was done (Mary Margaret had no love for microwave popcorn) and the cocoa on the stove was bubbling. “For the last month, Mary Margaret has treated me to every Audrey Hepburn movie in existence. It’s nice, but I’d like to try watching a romance with someone who can hold my hand. Besides, this is an R, and I can’t watch the raunchy ones with Mary Margaret. It’d be like swearing in front of a puppy.”

“You don’t swear in front of puppies?” Emma gave Regina her hot chocolate. The surface was thick with marshmallows. “I didn’t ask for marshmallows.”

“You date me, you get marshmallows. Deal.” Emma sat down, slanted into Regina’s lap.

“I might’ve asked for a blonde.”

“Deal,” Emma replied happily.

***

An hour in, they’d finished the popcorn, the cocoa had gotten cold, and Regina had stopped wondering whether Cameron Diaz would find true love. She rested her hand on Emma’s leg, easily within reach by the way Emma was leaning on her shoulder. Emma purred slightly.

It still amazed Regina sometimes. They’d been dating for about a week and Emma had already managed to get her to confess to some very private feelings. And here they were, and she could touch Emma without getting slapped or yelled. Emma just accepted it. She liked it.

Emma didn’t seem to notice as Regina moved her fingers up Emma’s thigh, just nuzzling her head under Regina’s arm. When Regina scratched her fingernail over the leather of Emma’s belt, she smiled a little. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hand,” Emma said, not getting up, and not doing anything about Regina’s hand but looking at it as it squeezed her waist. “Seems to be migrating.”

“It’s cold,” Regina purred. “I need to put it someplace warm.”

Emma shut her eyes as the hand slid under her waistband. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Pause it,” Regina whispered, her voice getting lower with every word.

“You promised a nice romantic evening.”

“Fingering can be romantic.” Regina wasn’t sure what she was saying. She was breaking every rule she’d set for herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t control herself around Emma. It was that she didn’t want to.

“I am not giving you a reach-around,” Emma replied. “Or whatever the lesbian version of that is.”

“That’s alright,” Regina assured her. “I just want my hand nice and toasty…”

“Don’t ever call my crotch toasty again,” Emma sighed, lowering her head to the armrest. It actually did feel pretty great… Then she felt cold fingers inside her shirt, caressing her breasts. “Regina…”

“I have two hands, Emma. You knew that when we started this.”

Emma tried to concentrate on lovelorn Cameron Diaz. “You should’ve told me you were an insatiable pervert before we sat down. I could’ve put on Emmanuelle.”

“What’s Emmanuelle?”

“God, really?” Emma closed her eyes to think up an explanation, but that just left her with _nothing_ but Regina between her thighs and around her nipple, playing her like Guitar Hero. “It’s, like, the first softcore porn series. Lots of naked people, but there’s also… _shit_ … a plot and… you know, no one chokes anyone.”

“They do that in—“

“Hardcore porn. And you do not want to know how I know that. Sometimes being a bounty hunter isn’t as glamorous as Dog makes it look…”

“Emma.” Regina said her name like she was warning someone about a poisonous snake. “Turn the TV off. Your romantic comedy has worked, I want to have sex with you. We don’t need it anymore.”

Emma pressed pause. “You have to---finish watching it with me after.”

She was rolling over, giving her front to Regina, allowing the other woman to mount her. Regina pressed butterfly kisses to her exposed throat, licking the sweat she’d started.

“Mmm,” Regina said. “After.”

Emma turned the TV off. Mary Margaret would give her hell if there were plasma burn-in. “And you have to get up and go to the kitchens for snacks, while I get to lounge around all naked on this couch.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And you have to tell me I’m pretty.”

Regina shot up briefly to kiss Emma’s lips. “You’re beautiful.” She returned to the lower reaches of Emma’s throat, kissing the line of her collarbone. “Enchanting.” She moved lower. “Sexy.” And lower. “Exotic.” And lower. “Tasty…”

“So you won’t slap me if I say I’m going to ride you like a stallion? It must be love.”

Emma’s head shot up. That hadn’t sounded like Regina. Way too husky. And Regina was staring up at her, thinking the same thing.

A key turned in the lock.

Emma jerked up, knocking Regina off her, onto the coffee table, scattering a bowl of unpopped popcorn kernels across the floor. As David and Mary Margaret came through the door, Mary on David’s back like a monkey (“I’ll ride _you!_ ”), Regina was on all fours sweeping the kernels under the rug with her hands while Emma was doing up her buttons in completely the wrong order.

“Mary Margaret!” Emma cried in surprise, folding her hands in front of her crotch just in case Regina had left any… evidence.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret cried, getting off of David’s broad shoulders.

“We were just—“

“We?”

Regina stood up, looking impeccable. Not a hair out of place. “Emma and I were… discussing Henry’s educational future. I favor Dartsmouth.”

“Isn’t he ten?” Mary Margaret asked.

Regina shrugged.

“Mary broke a toe,” David said too quickly. “I was giving her a ride—giving her a _lift_ to her bed. So she can lie down.”

Mary Margaret quickly leaned against the wall. “I’m going to see a doctor in the morning.”

Regina calmly took Emma’s arm. “Well, I’m sure Emma would love to help you in bed, but she’s promised to come home and help me. We’re installing a new computer for Henry. Isn’t that right Emma?”

“Yes. That is completely right.”

“So, David.” Regina smiled. “I suppose you’ll just have to stay and help Mary Margaret yourself. You can make her feel better, can’t you?”

“I’ll be sure to try.”

Mary Margaret’s foot wasn’t too injured to kick him a little.

***

“Grace under pressure,” Emma observed when they were safely outside. “No wonder they elected you mayor.”

“It’s not so hard. You just have to remain calm and deal with each problem as it arises.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t do that. Especially if my panties were in her washing machine.”

Regina looked back. Looked to Emma. “You’re going to retrieve them for me.”

“You’re going to finish watching The Sweetest Thing with me.”

***

Emma gave Regina a ride back home, since she’d already given Regina a ride everywhere else, and was a bit surprised that Regina spent the trip with her hands folded neatly in her lap, occasionally checking her iPhone.

“No roadhead?” she asked.

“What’s—“

“Seriously?” Emma interrupted. “Where were you raised, a convent?”

“Oh. It’s something naughty.”

“It’s when the passenger has oral sex with the person driving the car,” Emma explained, a little exasperated.

“Emma, I would never impede your ability to drive safely. We did just get that sign fixed, after all.”

When Emma looked over at Regina, she was grinning. Emma matched it. “Hey, that last one was on you.”

Regina changed the subject. “So. David and Mary Margaret.”

“Yeah, they make a cute couple.” Emma looked over again and noticed Regina’s jaw was set in displeasure, a look that until recently she’d usually reserved for Emma. “Oh. Sorry about your friend.”

“Kathryn’s a big girl. She can handle it.”

“Yeah. And hey, maybe this’ll make Henry finally stop going on about fairy tales.”

Regina looked sharply at Emma, barely managing to stop herself from snapping “Explain!”

Emma snickered at her seriousness. “It’s just he had this idea that Mary Margaret was Snow White and David was Prince Charming, and if they kissed, the curse would be broken. I think it’s safe to say they’ve kissed at this point.”

“Yes. Very safe…” Regina looked out the window. Watched her town passing by. Emma was no threat, the spell hadn’t been lifted—who cared if Mary Margaret got her happy ending? She’d still be branded as a man-stealer. Regina could help that along. That was revenge enough. “So if we date at my place, Henry will wonder why you’re here, while if we date at your place, we might overhear… riding lessons.”

“Know any sleazy motels, Madame Mayor?” Emma asked with a grin.

“You could move in,” Regina said, staring straight ahead at the road as it was blasted by the headlights. “With me.” And here it was, the part where she got rejected, dismissed, humiliated. But she’d do it on her terms, not like with Graham. She’d go down swinging. And maybe, just maybe—“Our workplaces are a block away from each other, so we can carpool, and obviously you could spend more time with Henry—besides, I have plenty of room, and sometimes I really could use some help around the house…”

They came to a stop sign. Emma shoved the car into park and reached over to cup Regina’s chin, turning her so their eyes were forced to meet. Regina was like a statue except for the one tear winding down her cheek.

“Did you just ask me to move in with you?”

Regina nodded.

Emma leaned in and kissed her. Emma had kissed her several times that night, but those were meant to share passion. This was something else, slow and lovely, like an embrace only strikingly more potent. It reminded Regina of the first time, when she’d been feeling nothing but loneliness and suddenly Emma made her feel _together_.

Emma pulled away, nodding.

Regina rolled her lips and felt smudged lipstick. “I’m just being reasonable.”

“You’re cute when you’re reasonable.”

***

When they reached the manor, Emma entered it for the first time as more than a guest. The décor wasn’t as chilly as it had seemed at first—a few houseplants would set it right off. Regina played the peppy tour guide as best she could—“This is my bedroom. You’re welcome to share it, but it’s fine if you want your own. We could convert a guest bedroom.”

“That’s great, because I was thinking we could sleep in one bedroom and turn the other into a sex dungeon.”

Regina looked back to see if she was joking. Emma smiled at her.

“What makes you think I don’t already have one?”

In the bedroom—which had the personality of a Sharper Image catalog and a bed the size of a continent—Emma sat down on the mattress while Regina disappeared into the walk-in closet. Emma got it. Someone as tightly-wound as Regina needed some space after putting herself out there like that. Emma tested out the bedsprings; very firm, but quiet. And the sheets were satin. She could get used to that.

“Do you sleep in the nude?” Regina asked from beyond the closet door, with a ruffle of cloth indicating she was changing.

“You really can’t wait to find out?” Emma called back.

“I was just thinking about Henry.” Regina stepped out of the closet, glossy white negligee now covering her like a layer of frost. The smooth skin Emma could just make out underneath it and the slender fingers she could see very clearly as they knitted together the belt, on the other hand, gave Emma a feverish rush. “Pajamas would be fine, of course—or, if you like, I can give you the number of my tailor. You’d be surprised the difference some good sleepwear makes.”

“So _that’s_ how you sleep at night,” Emma replied. She crooked her finger, beckoning Regina to come closer. “Have you ever tried sleeping ‘in the nude’?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What if there were a fire?” Regina crossed her arms, but obediently stepped forward.

“I’ll put it out with the fire extinguisher. And don’t tell me you don’t have a fire extinguisher.”

“Hall closet, next to the first aid kit. I’ll show you in the morning.”

“Mmm.” Emma patted her knee. “Sit.”

Regina took Emma’s meaning instantly, gripping the upper panel of the four-corner bed and lowering herself onto Emma’s thigh. The movement pressed her breasts flush against the negligee. Emma could get used to waking up to that.

“Any other requests?” Regina asked. “Now that I’m sitting?”

Two minutes later, Emma’s uniform was in a state that would’ve worked better at a bachelor party than a police station, while Regina’s negligee had avoided tears only through profoundly good durability. With a sudden sigh, Regina pulled herself away from Emma’s questing lips and squinted at her charging iPhone on the bedstand, trying to read the clock.

“What time is it?” she asked, as if Emma had been checking her watch.

“Sex o’clock,” Emma retorted, burying her face in Regina’s neck.

Regina angled her knee to shove Emma away. “Seriously?”

“It worked on me once.” Regina’s stare didn’t lessen. “I was in high school. And he played football.”

Regina gave up on her paramour’s good taste, a compromise she had resolved to get used to, and grabbed the iPhone for a closer look. 11:10 PM. “Shit.”

“What is it, babe?” Emma asked, sneaking one last kiss before settling around Regina comfortingly.

“The Bannings will be back home from their date. I was going to call at eleven to see how the boys were doing at their slumber party.”

“So? How much trouble can Henry get--” Emma recalled having her birthday party crashed. In Boston. “Oh. Right.”

“One minute,” Regina promised, tugging her robe into modesty with one hand while pressing Emma down to the mattress with the other. “I will be right back. Keep your pants off.”

“Good line. Way better than sex o’clock.”

Being in Regina's bedroom, Emma felt delayed-onset modesty. She pulled her clothes into a bit more of a state. It just meant Regina could undress her all over again. Or not, as Regina rumbled back into the bedroom, throwing open the dresser to pull out jeans and a T-shirt. Emma didn't even know she owned those.

"They're not picking up," Regina said. "And I can't reach Graham to do a drive-by, so we're going. And don't tell me I'm being unreasonable, because—"

"Hey, it's okay. I'll drive." Emma pulled on her shoes. "I'm sure he's fine."

***

In the car, Emma put the siren on, broke the speed limit, and squeezed Regina's thigh on long stretches of straight road. Anything to comfort her. The Banning house was just across town, but it felt like a hundred miles. When they got there, Regina shoved the door open and almost tripped on her seatbelt getting out. She stopped on the sidewalk, staring at the house, overcome with awful visions.

The door was shut, but the lock had been broken.

"Wait here," Emma said, drawing her gun and holding it low. "Do not move from this spot," she repeated emphatically.

"I've got it!" Regina replied. "Just go!"

She locked her arms across her chest as Emma hustled to the door and slipped inside. "Police officer! I'm coming in, hands where I can see them!" No answer. Then Regina couldn't see her anymore.

Regina would not put up with this. Even if it was just teenage vandals, she would hold their parents accountable. She would boil them in oil or put their heads on pikes or… or… make them feel this way, whatever mixture of poisons it took, she'd make them feel like their heart was being held over an open flame.

"Please," she said, wishing there was someone listening, God or a fairy or her father. "Please, please, please, let me keep him."

The radio in the car crackled to life. Emma's voice. "This is Swan, I need medical assistance to 305 Lakecross Terrace, and find Graham, get him here now—"

Regina broke into a run, ditching her heels in the damp grass as she sprinted across the yard and to the front door where Emma was coming out, gun holstered, catching her in her arms, holding her back.

"Let go of me!" Regina hissed, hating her more than she ever had before.

"He's not in there!" Emma insisted. "The Bannings are tied up, the dad was knocked around a little, but they're okay—"

" _Where's Henry?_ "

Emma still held Regina, but all the fight had gone out of her. It had turned into an embrace, Regina sinking to the ground and Emma falling with her, onto her knees, cradling Regina as she shriveled up.  
  
"We're going to get him back," Emma promised. "We're going to find him and get him back, I swear it."


	7. Chapter 7

Ten days.

Nothing.

She couldn't sleep. She couldn't eat. Emma ushered her to bed, to breakfast, to dinner, but her stomach always felt knotted. It was only when Emma doled out touches—her hand on top of Regina's, her arms squeezing Regina's shoulders—that Regina could feel a little hope.

She hated that. She knew it was false. Addictive, but false.

Another night of lying in bed, letting tears leak out of her eyes, and then the nightmares so bad it would be like she didn't get any sleep at all. Even Emma lying next to her didn't help.

"I knew he'd leave," Regina muttered. At least it felt good to say that. "They always leave."

"He's not gone," Emma retorted, linking the arm she had around Regina's waist with another one under Regina's body. "We'll get him back. You know, after I gave birth, I didn't know if I could go through with the adoption. I knew I couldn't provide for him, I knew there was someone who could give him everything I never could… but, God, holding him? I didn't want to let him go. It's like my body wasn't programmed for it. I might as well slit my wrists. Then they told me about you—mayor of a small town, everyone loves her…"

"Why are you telling me this? Is there a point? Is this helping me get him back? Why are you still here, even? It's not like you need to sleep with me to be near your son anymore…"

"Regina! What the hell?" Emma sat up. Regina stayed there, curling in further on herself without Emma to hold her in place.

There. That was better. They could have a nice shouting match and she'd feel something aside from nothing. A kind of _profound_ nothing, like she'd felt after her father's death—not an absence, but a presence. That was her fault too. Coming here, then bringing in Henry—all her fault.

Emma was saying something, but Regina didn't hear her as she ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet, speckling the pristine porcelain. Luckily, she hadn't eaten much. She pulled the lever; when it didn't flush fast enough, she pulled it again. Emma was next to her by then, easing her over against the bathtub and wiping her lips with bathroom tissue.

"You're the only person I know who has toilet paper _and_ tissue paper in your bathroom," Emma said. "As for your question, I'm still here because I don't want you to be alone. I said I loved you and I'm going to keep saying it until it gets through that boyish haircut of yours."

"It's not boyish," Regina sniffled. "It's from the 1940s."

Emma ruffled it. "I would kiss you if you hadn't just thrown up." She sat down next to Regina, petting her leg. "I love you."

"Yes," Regina said.

What was it you were supposed to do in these situations? Cry on someone's shoulder? She didn't have any tears left, but she rested her head on Emma anyway. It felt alright. Not nice, with Emma's bony shoulder propping up her cheekbone, but alright. She'd have to move around more to get comfortable and she didn't have the energy. She just slouched against Emma.

"If I'd have known this would happen, I wouldn't have… I wouldn't have done a lot of things." So that's what it was in her belly. Regret.

"Like adopting him?" Emma now had an arm around Regina's head and was petting her hair, like there might be a switch hidden in her follicles. Turn off the pain. "You know how many times I wish I hadn't given Henry up? But then we never would've met."

She could tell her. Regina _could_ tell her. What was the downside? Nothing could feel worse than this. "I'm going to tell you two things and I don't want you to… reply, or say anything back."

Emma petted Regina's hair again, leaving a lock dangling across her field of vision. "Okay."

"I'm in love with you." She wasn't even sure it mattered. Emma would probably leave her soon. Once she heard the second thing. "And I'm not sure I know what to do with that."

Technically, Emma kissing her then didn't count as a reply. Regina wouldn't gainsay her.

"Second?"

Regina wished more than anything that she could curl up in Emma's lap, go to sleep, wake up with this all over. Instead, she lifted herself off Emma. Looked her in the eye. "I know who took our son. Don't ask me how I know or why I haven't said anything—"

Emma grabbed her by the chin. " _Who?"_

"Mr. Gold."

Emma stood. She almost ran out the door, but instead she shut it, paced furiously, turning back to the door, turning back to Regina, not sure where to go.

Regina just sat there. "He helped the adoption go through in the first place, and he's made threats… everyone kept asking me if there was anyone who had reason to take Henry, and there _wasn't_ , but Gold. It was a long time ago, but Gold has reasons."

Emma finally crossed her arms, holding herself very carefully still. "I'm going to go talk to him. Will you be okay, if I leave you here?"

"Yes."

"I don't want you to tell anyone where I'm going. Nothing that can get back to him."

"Why? Afraid you won't get a warrant?"

"I'm not going to try."

***

Emma wasn't sure who she was worried more for, as she sped through Storybrooke, the small town suddenly not nearly small enough. Regina or Henry. Henry she could get back, and nothing had happened to him. That was just unthinkable. But Regina. Regina had damage. Emma had always sensed it; no one was that perfect. But she'd also seen a lot of people in crisis mode. People whose families were being broken apart, sons going to jail, husbands going to the gas chamber. They fell apart. Not Regina; she self-destructed.

How much anger was in her? Okay, shit that deep, probably childhood. Not that Emma was a psychiatrist, but it was a good rule of thumb. And then having Henry reject her—what was that? Some kind of vicious cycle? She was worried he'd reject her, so she kept him at arm's length, so he rejected her? That sounded right—ish.

The thing was, Henry and Regina were a package deal. Would Emma want it any other way? Regina was amazing, and beautiful, and otherwise awesome. But would she ever let Emma in, or would she always be in martial arts mode, waiting for Emma to throw the first punch so she could strike back?

Could Emma live like that? Slowly coaxing Regina out of her suspicion and paranoia, just to get to the point that any normal person should start at?

Emma's headlights picked up the sign for Gold's store. Luckily, she had enough experience pushing down her own issues that she could do the same for Regina's. One hand on her gunbelt, she went to try the door. Like the sign said, closed. She was willing to shoot the lock open, but luckily she could suppress her own issues as well as Regina's. She picked the lock.

Her nightvision was good enough to navigate her through the store without stubbing her toe on anything. There was no sound. She drew her gun, held it close to her waist as she tried each door, listened for the slightest noise, even sniffed the air for blood. She'd come upon a dead body once; she'd never forget the way it'd flavored the air.

It wasn't until she looked under the cash register that she found Henry's storybook.

***

The odd thing was, it was easier for Regina to function without Emma. She couldn't call it anything else, it was a mechanical process. She realized her stomach was rumbling and her mascara was running, so she reapplied her make-up and went downstairs to fix herself a quick meal.

It was the love. All that… energy coming from Emma was just tiring. Without it, she could turn inward and crudely aim herself at the next thing that needed doing.

Love was a weakness. She'd been right to think that. She could cut ties, feel nothing. No. That wasn't right. She didn't know if she could do that. Live without love. There was a part of her that sprung to life around Emma, and Henry now too. Even now she could feel it, a solidness in her chest, like bone. She liked having it there.

"And how have your days been, Madame Mayor? Peaceful, I trust."

Regina was used to how Emma said her title. A little wink to the power she wielded, some playful antagonism. Gold said it with disdain, always reminding her that her power came from him.

Regina looked at him. He didn't have Henry with him. The bone in her chest splintered and cut into her. "Where is he?"

"Somewhere safe. If you don't trust my honor, believe I'll protect my investment." Gold sat down at her table. Where she and Emma had sat, kissed, an eternity ago. "I could do with some tea. Please."

Regina's hands shook as she moved to obey. "Please. Tell me where he is."

"In the car. Well, the trunk."

Regina dropped the teapot she was holding. "Bastard!"

Gold tilted his head, like he'd caught a puppy up to some adorable mischief. "Aw. Now you'll have to start over again. Better hurry. I'm parched."

Forcing her hands steady, her eyes clear, Regina picked up a second teapot. The one she used when she didn't have guests over. It was homey, but dependable. She used it to make tea for Emma. They tried to get Henry to develop a taste for it instead of Gatorade.

"Why'd you come here?" Regina asked. A nice, soft question.

"Ah. Therein lies the tale." Gold was still holding his cane. He tapped it on the floor twice, then sat it down on the table, stretching out with his hands behind his head. "You know what I like about this world? No one believes in magic. Things that go bump in the night, monsters in the closet, boogeymen under the bed—they just tell themselves it's not there. And it isn't, of course; magic died out here long ago. I learned about this world a long time ago—they dream about us. Mix up our stories, make them into their own foolish trifles. And soon, I dreamed up the greatest bargain of them all. Enter this world—use my magic on the unsuspecting population—rule for all eternity."

"Bullshit," Regina spat, her hands feeling distended from her as they brewed the tea on their own, turning on the stove, setting the pot atop it. "It was my choice to come here. I used the curse."

"Someone had to. Eventually. Here or there, as soon as you build the world's biggest bomb, someone just has to push the button. But I thought it would be some warmongering general. Who'd have thought it'd be someone as pathetically malleable as you?"

While he was busy berating her, Regina slipped a kitchen knife into her pocket. "So if this was all to get you here, why do you have Henry? _Let him go._ "

"No, Madame Mayor. You still fail to see what I'm accomplishing here. Just because I'm in this world doesn't mean I can use its magic. There need to be some adjustments. That's why I made sure to hold the curse back just until little Emma was born?"

"Little Emma? What are you talking about?"

The teapot hissed. Gold smiled. "Better get that."

"No. _Tell me_ what's going on!"

Gold nodded his head to either side. "Alright. I can see you're worked up." He stood. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation tomorrow, when you're calmer—"

" _No!_ " Regina picked up the pot. "No. Just give me a moment."

"Ah. There's a good girl." He sat. "Making a handicapped man stand unnecessarily, though—hardly politically correct. You may have an image problem in the next election."

She dropped a mug in front of him and poured. "Emma Swan. What does she have to do with this?"

"No mug for yourself? You won't be joining me?"

"I'm not thirsty." She put a hand on the table, sagged against it. "Please…"

"Oh, alright. I'd have thought you'd figured it out by now, but—Emma Swan is the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White."

"That's impossible," Regina said certainly. "That child was—"

She trailed off. Gold took a drink, smiling. "Funny how things come around. You condemned a child to death, now here you are, begging for the grandchild's life."

"I'm not that woman anymore."

"No. You've just forgotten you are. That's alright. We'll work on that. Just to remind you, Emma was prophesized to end the curse. That's powerful magic there. Magic that had to be outside the curse to come to fruition. And when she mated with one of the locals—I must admit, it's a wonder what a little wine can do—her bloodlines' magic merged with the latent magic of this world."

It was all so ridiculous Regina had to laugh. She chortled, falling into her chair. "So what? Henry's a wizard?"

"He saw through your spell, didn't he? No, he's definitely no wizard, but he does have magic within him. Full-blooded, a strain of power adapted to this world but stronger than anything it's produced in a thousand years. Imagine what I could do with that power, in a land completely unprotected from it? I could rule. You of all people should know the appeal of that."

"Henry will never help you." Regina bit her lip, the thought of Henry marshalling tears behind her eyes. "He's a good boy."

"Aye. We're in agreement. And I've no use of a catspaw. So what we need to do is get his magic—into me."

"So do it, and leave us be."

"My. So quick to condemn your new home to my tender mercies. No, it's not that simple. Unfortunately for us, magic here runs along similar lines as magic back home. No one under the age of innocence can enter into a bond; I can't make a deal with him, no matter how hard I try." He laughed. "I had the boy half-mad with hunger, sweating buckets from the embers under his feet, _screaming_ that he gives me his magic, and still… nothing."

Regina slapped him. They sat there, Regina expecting to be killed at any moment. She couldn't muster up an ounce of regret. "You're a monster."

"You'd be a fine judge of that. As I was saying before you interrupted, I need the permission of the boy's mother for a deal to be struck. Laws of magic."

"Go talk to Emma. Henry will be the first to tell you—"

" _You're_ his mother, daft woman. After all, you're the one he was screaming for." Gold read her mind. "Touch me again and I'll rip into you like a dog digging for a bone."

Regina folded her hands together in her lap like she was trying to break them. Gold finished his tea.

"Now then. Tell me I can have Henry's magic."

"What happens to Henry?"

"Well. There is a reason I couldn't just ask nicely. Magic's a part of him. On a subconscious level, he uses it and that poorly-drawn book of his to see the connections behind the veil. How do you think he seemed to know always how to weaken your curse? It's a very valuable skill. And ripping it away will leave him… somewhat the worse for wear. Nothing a few years in therapy won't fix. Hence, my offer. I'll give you a new child. One with less… troubling genetics. A daughter, perhaps? I'll even stop the clock again. You can have your little world… and I'll have mine."

Regina drew her hands against each other, nails digging into the skin, blood welling to the surface. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't.

"Come now," Gold said, seeing the indecision on her face. "He was never really your son. He was a puppy. A fashion accessory. A Chihuahua. He knows it, why don't you?"

"You said… he cried out for me."

Gold smiled at her. "Who didn't he cry out for?" Reaching into his coat, Gold produced a contract. Very new, very neat, a thin sheaf of type-written pages bound together by a common paper clip. A fountain pen came with it. He set the papers down in front of Regina, the pen atop it. "Sign there, there, and initial here."

"No."

Gold's smile grew. "Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me. _Please."_

"I know the deal we have. I know what it'll mean. I'm telling you no."

Distantly, the wind howled. Gold leaned forward, his hair falling forward out of its careful part. " _We had a deal_. This curse for your cooperation. If you break the deal, _you lose everything_. Your entire world—your precious happy ending—all gone."

Regina was very calm. The bone in her chest was very solid. She had regrets, oh, she had regrets—not saying goodbye to Emma was only the start—but at this stage, there was nothing she'd do differently. Her choice was made. There was a freedom in the inevitability of that. "It's not about my happiness."

Gold twisted the head of his cane. The sheath slid down its length, exposing cold, sharp steel.  
  
"Well look at that. We have struck a bargain after all." Gold held the blade to Regina's throat. "Your life for his."


	8. Chapter 8

Outside, the mist rolled in. The winds screamed and pushed it along. Something hung in the air, oak-scented and ancient. It drove people together, pushed this way and that until they saw each other on the street, finally out of their personal mazes.

***

Sean Hermann had never been sure he'd done the right thing. His father was the richest man in town, even more money than Mr. Gold. Maybe he knew something Sean didn't. Hadn't every dumb teenager in every crap romance around the world thought they'd known better than their parents? There was a knock at the door of the room they were staying in (it came with his new job of fixing up Granny's bed and breakfast; lucky for him Ruby couldn’t fix an unplugged toaster). Sean got it and the mist swirled in as he saw Ashley, a dress thick and white around her, wrapping up her pregnancy like a gift. She could've been a princess.

"Thomas," she said softly, faltering just until he caught her.

***

Of course Michael didn't know if he'd done the right thing. Adopting two kids just because he was their biological father, how was he supposed to not have doubts about that? Sure, Ava and Nicholas were good kids, but how was he a dad? He didn't even know how many years he hadn't been there for them. They could've been eight years old, nine, ten…

The mist came in and he knew. Eleven. For their birthdays, he'd gotten a doll for Gretel, a toy sword for Hansel…

***

Regina wasn't afraid to die. She would've preferred life, of course and there was little she wouldn't have done to see Henry and Emma (her family) again. But now they'd never leave her, because she'd leave first. She'd have memories of a family, happy and united, kept perfect forever.

Gold had given her time to think all that, his sword hovering at her throat. "You've had time to come to your senses. Still want to die for the brat?"

"He's my son," Regina said, closing her eyes.

"No. He's your orphan." Gold drew back the sword, taking Regina's breath with it. She knew what was coming. She'd seen enough executions in the courtyard. Snow White had once told her you still thought with your head off; it took minutes for you to suffocate. The bitch _would_ devil her even now.

_Please, don't let Henry be the one who finds me._

"Hey!" It was Emma's voice. Regina was too practical to dream of angels and fluffy clouds—as if they'd take her—but damn if she couldn't think of a better voice to welcome her. "Deal's off, asshole!"

Regina forced her eyes open. Emma was standing in the kitchen doorway, Henry behind her, peeking through the front door. Emma must've heard him in the trunk; he must've been making all sorts of noise. Of course he'd fought, he was their boy.

Gold turned just in time for the bullet to hit him in the face instead of the ear. He fell at Regina's feet like just another one of her victims.

"Please don't use that language in front of Henry," Regina said as she fell to her knees, her whole body shaking.

Emma picked up Henry, holding him so he couldn't see the body. "Come on, Regina, come on. Let's go into the other room." With her gun holstered, she could take Regina's hand and pull her along. Regina hadn't seen her tuck the gun away. She stared at Mr. Gold. Was blood a different color in the Kingdom than it was here or had it just been so long that she'd forgotten how blood really looked?

Regina let herself be led to the dining room, wondering if there was anyone else she'd trust to guide her. She already knew the answer. It made her feel alone.

Emma toed the door open and a white-hot fog poured into envelop them as they fled the gathering pool of Gold's blood. In a moment, they seemed to come out on the other side. Henry hadn't changed. Neither had Emma. But Regina was now dressed in dark finery, black silk covering her every inch like armor. Even her face was shielded by a veil. She tore it away, but Emma had already seen it. She'd seen everything.

Emma let go of her hand, stepped away, regarded her with the first look they'd ever shared: suspicion. Like everything they'd been through had burned up, leaving Emma just like all the rest. "So. This is who you really are."

Regina twisted the veil in her newly gloved hands. "It's what I really look like."

Regina had heard Emma angry. Heard her shocked. Heard her sad. She'd never heard her _empty_. "Henry was right. He was your son and you made everyone think he was crazy."

Regina had to defend herself. It was her nature. When she was attacked, she defended herself. "He _was_ —confused. He thought I didn't love him."

"I thought you loved me. Or was I 'confused'?" She put both arms around Henry, getting a good grip on him for when she ran. "Was that just your way of getting me to back down so I wouldn't expose you?

"I would never do that!"

"I don't think there's much you wouldn't do. Everyone in this town can prove that," Emma said, a mournfulness creeping into her voice. She sounded so lost, Regina just wanted to hold her close, protect her, comfort her, she just had to make Emma see that this had all been blown out of proportion and then they could go back.

"I was _merciful!"_ Regina insisted. She could still feel the old anger in her stomach. All those smiling faces at the wedding, all laughing at her… "I could've burnt them all to ashes, but I left them a chance at happiness!"

Henry spoke for the first time. Small and quiet, but cutting through all Regina's protests. "Just as long as they weren't as happy as you."

Regina bit her lip until she tasted blood. "And why not?" she screamed suddenly, tears flooding her eyes. "Don't I deserve it the most? All the others got their happily ever afters just _handed_ to them for being good. I couldn't be good! I had to be ruthless to survive. But here, with you and with Henry, I didn't have to be. I could be good. And I have been, you've seen it! I've changed! I'm a good person now!"

She wiped her tears as best she could with trembling eyes and offered a reassuring smile, meeting Emma's eyes, trying to convey all the fear she had of this moment. Just minutes ago she'd been willing to die for Henry, couldn't Emma see that?

"You're not a person at all." David pushed on the door so hard it snapped against the wall as he came in, making room for his broad shoulders. He had his knightly bearing again. Regina was used to him looking uncertain, off-balanced. She'd forgotten how tall he was. "You're a monster. I just remembered what to do with monsters."

***

Regina would give David this, besides the cheekbones. He didn't make a game of killing. He just put an hand around Regina's throat, the other tightly coiled at his side in case she tried to fight back, and pushed her against the wall. Simple, yet effective. No wonder Snow White fell in love with him.

"This is a lot more satisfying when you can't disappear on me," he growled. Regina shut her eyes. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She hadn't for Gold, and she certainly wouldn't for this… himbo.

With colored spots dancing in her vision, Regina felt a sudden longing in her gut. It wasn't to survive; that was thoroughly squashed. It was Emma. She wanted to see Emma, one last time, take her along if only in sight. She opened her eyes and looked over David's shoulder and saw the most interestingly stricken expression on Emma's face as she held Henry, averting his eyes.

"Don't bother," Regina tried to say. After all, she'd seen her mother die. Look how she'd turned out. But she wasn't very loud without air.

Emma wouldn't meet her eyes. Seemed ungrateful. Regina's throat didn't hurt anymore. It seemed ungrateful because after all, she had taken care of Emma's son, all those years. She felt lightheaded. Hadn't she done a good job? Even Emma had said she'd done a good job.

Regina closed her eyes, satisfied. Emma had seemed concerned at the end there. That was enough. In the end, someone had cared enough to change their expression. More than she'd expected.

"Is he hurting her?" Henry asked. His voice was shaking. _Henry, stop fidgeting, no one respects a fidgeter. Stand up straight and tall and ask your mother like a young man should._

"Shh, baby," Emma replied. Typical.

"He's just gonna take her to jail, right?" _Don't waste time on hoping, Henry, for God's sake. It leaves less time to react. Did I teach you nothing?_

"We should go, Henry." Regina heard a brief clap on Emma's boots on tile, then an 'oof'' of exertion from her—had the little devil actually _hit_ her?—and the patter of little feet moving fast. _No running in the house, Henry._

"Don't hurt my mom!" Henry cried, the impact sounding in front of Regina, her eyes flying open in concern to see Henry butting into David's leg. It was enough to throw him off-balance and he let go of Regina to steady himself. Involuntarily, Regina gulped in air. Her body hurt again.

"He's right," Emma said, suddenly vehement. She stalked over to Regina, putting herself between David and her. Regina didn't trick herself into thinking Emma was shielding her. If she were, she'd have been facing David. "Whatever else she's done, she was merciful. Putting you all here was… cruel, but it wasn't… she doesn't deserve to die."

"How can you say that?" David demanded. "You, of all people, you she's hurt the most."

"What are you talking about?" Emma asked, still eying Regina as if daring her to answer.

Regina looked away.

"You're our daughter," David said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Mine and Snow White's. You were going to have everything and she took it from you. The rest of us, we can start over. But you'll never get back the years we were supposed to spend raising you. They're gone. Forever."

Emma looked at Regina, her face completely blank, wiped clean. It was like looking in a mirror for Regina, only she could feel the tears running down her face. She remembered thinking that Emma was stealing her life all that time ago, before they became whatever they were now. And now that paranoid delusion had come true. Emma was the royal, sitting in cold judgment over her. And Regina had nothing.

"We'll lock her up," Emma said. "Hold her until we've all calmed down. Then we'll decide, as a community, what to do with her. We can't give into our emotions. That'd make us as bad as she is." Emma turned Regina around. Her handcuffs rattled as she got them out. "Watch Henry," she told David. "I'll bring her in."

***

Usually, Emma coped with things like this—there weren't any things like this—but with heartbreak and despair and bad days by drinking, or ice cream, or hell, a one-night stand. She couldn't do that now. All she had was her police training. It'd just been a few minutes of Graham goofily lecturing her, but it gave her something to focus on. She put her hand on Regina's head—fingers in her hair--as she moved her into the backseat of the squad car.

As she drove, she thought through every turn. She didn't let her eyes near the rear-view.

Then Regina started sniffling.

"Don't!" Emma said stridently. "You don't get to cry! Not after all you've… done."

Regina rested her head against the window, hiding her face behind her hair.

Emma pulled the car over and waited for her to stop.

***

It was like herding cats, but Graham got everyone into town hall. There wasn't enough space. They had to prop the doors open and seat people in the halls, wiring the microphones to the PA system so everyone could hear.

Emma was in the jailhouse, listening to it on the radio. She was probably the only one using the broadcast—everyone else was there. But she needed to keep an eye on Regina. She'd thought that… the Queen might escape, and honestly that wasn't so bad, the idea that she'd just disappear from their lives forever. But then she thought Regina might hurt herself, and that was unbearable.

Regina sat inside the cell, prim and composed, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap. Only her puffy red eyes gave up the lie.

David took Regina's old podium.

"Hello everyone. I think we're all aware of our circumstances. We're trapped here. We have no magic that works. I, and the royals, have formed a provisional council until… I don't know, really. All we can do right now is decide what to do with the woman who brought us here."

The sudden roar could be heard both on the radio and over the distance from the town hall. Emma looked at Regina, missing her wince. "They really do hate you."

"I suppose I gave them reason to."

David started talking again. "Order! Order!"

"Everyone calm down, please!" It was Mary Margaret. Emma could just picture her standing beside David at the podium, leaning in to use his microphone. Somehow, her admonishment worked. "Thank you. Now then, David?"

"I have something I'd like to say." The voice came in tinny over the radio, far from the mike. Footsteps as he got closer. When he spoke next, it became clear it was Archie. "I don't think we should be too hard on her. No one died. We didn't even age. And… I kinda like not having to worry about people stepping on me. We may not have magic, but we do have medicine and technology—honestly, I like it here."

"Well," Emma said, pacing in front of the cell, arms crossed. "Someone still likes you."

"I'm not in a mirror anymore!" Sidney cried. "Even Geppato's parents…"

"That's beside the point," Mary Margaret said gently. "Regina had no right to do as she did. Most of us she deliberately contrived to cause pain."

"This goes beyond her just wanting a happy ending," David continued. "She's wicked. Mad with power and revenge. We can't trust that she won't try this again, or something worse. What we need to do is take steps to—" Again he was drowned out by the roaring mob.

"Would you let him do it?" Regina asked. "Again?"

"It's not up to me," Emma said simply. Like she'd already resigned herself to the fact.

"You're a police officer. You have more authority here than he does. Are you going to endorse vigilante justice--"

"Is this what you have to say to me!?" Emma shouted, overwhelming Regina's argument. "Some… pedantic bullshit about who gets to be in charge?"

Regina just stared at her. "What else can I say?"

"That you're _sorry_!" Emma insisted. "That there's a part of you… God, a part of you that doesn't need to hurt people to feel happy because you _are_ happy. Because you have people who make you happy." She sat down pathetically, wrapping herself in her own arms, her voice falling. "Because you let yourself be happy."

Regina had already been sitting down, but now she huddled in on herself, mirroring Emma. "It wouldn't make a difference."

"It would to me."

Emma turned off the radio. Silence reigned. From the town hall, they still caught snippets of particularly raised voices. The noise of it singed.

"I'm sorry," Regina said. She sounded so small. "I'm sorry I hurt people to feel happy. I'm sorry I pushed away the people who made me happy. But most of all, I'm sorry I put my happiness—no, my self-indulgent misery ahead of everything and everyone else. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'd give up everything to take it back."

Emma looked at her. Her eyes didn't seem to fit into her face, twin beacons of emotion in a mask of stone. "I wish that were enough."

The silence broke in a mass of footsteps, gritty voices. The debate was over. The mob was coming.


	9. Chapter 9

Emma felt like she was being torn apart. On one side was the woman she loved, the woman who'd raised her son, the woman she'd fought for and killed for and knew better than anyone. On the other side was the woman who'd effectively orphaned her, who'd condemned her to a childhood of foster homes and orphanages, who'd hurt everyone she'd come to care about here. The same person, pulling her in different directions.  
  
And then there were her parents, her friends, who wanted revenge and almost every part of Emma could admit they deserved it. If it were anyone else, she'd be there with them. But it was Regina. Emma loved her. She hated her.  
  
Emma sat behind her desk, the shotgun on top of her desk, its bullets around it. She didn't know what she'd do with it if someone forced their way in. Maybe turn it on herself. She was being pulled in three directions at once and all she could do was stand there and see which ended up with the bigger piece.  
  
Regina was sitting in the jail cell, a black hole. She didn't face the wire-mesh window or the bars, but instead the mirror at the sink. Confronting the reflection in the corner of her eye. The mob threw bricks and bottles. They all ricocheted off the covered window, but sometimes a bottle shattered and sprayed Regina with flecks of beer. It put Emma in mind of tears.  
  
David was there too, completing the triangle. He paced in front of the bars like Graham himself had, back when Emma was in there. The Sheriff hadn't showed since this whole mess started. Emma guessed that left her in charge. What an awful idea.  
  
Regina spoke at last, finally fixing David with a stare. Maybe he made a bigger target than Emma. "You're not expecting me to take you seriously, are you? Your highness? I just find it so difficult to forget that in the absence of the adoration and respect you're accustomed to, you're just a pathetic little man who can't even choose between two women. It had to be done for you."  
  
"You're right not to try to curry favor," David replied. "It wouldn't do you any good."  
  
"Then I guess she must get it from her mother."  
  
David put himself against the bars. "Who?"  
  
"Your daughter. She didn't seem to have an objection to me 'currying favor'."  
  
At the desk, Emma ran a hand through her hair.  
  
"Don't remind me of my daughter if you hope to live through this," David said tersely.  
  
"Do you think me a hypocrite? I don't hope for anything. That's why I stripped it all from you. I wished to share the bounty of nihilism."  
  
David put his hands on the bars like he was holding himself back. "You're not expecting me to take you seriously, are you? A lonely old woman who bought an orphan to feel better about herself. Without your magic, you're just a snake in the grass. You'll hiss until a shovel cuts your head from your body."  
  
"For God's sake, get on with it," Emma said. Her voice sounded hoarse. Rusted.  
  
"Yes, stepfather," Regina drawled. "Please do."  
  
David went to the doors and flung them open. The light was let out onto the crowd, revealing baleful faces and clenched fists. A collective intake of breath went through them.   
  
"Regina Mills, Queen of Vernillax. You have enacted grievous magic against the people of my kingdom, including the woman I loved. You have separated the children Hansel and Gretel from their father. You have taken prisoner the maiden Belle. You have held captive the woodsman Graham for your own sick amusement."  
  
"I hardly got the pleasure out of him that you think I did," Regina scoffed. "I prefer blondes. Besides, the man smelled like wet dog after every bath."  
  
"A woman found guilty of these crimes cannot be permitted to live within my kingdom." David turned to the crowd, seeming to meet their eyes each in turn. "But… my daughter has feelings for this woman. She was deceived, as we all were. But I have no desire to let Regina do more harm, even the harm that would come of Emma… losing her." He turned to Emma, nodded. She lunged for the keys as he looked at Regina. "Thus, I will spare your life, Regina Mills. But you are hereby banished from Storybrooke, on pain of death. Never to return. You have an hour to gather your things. Emma will see you out."  
  
Regina's expression barely changed as Emma opened the cell. It stayed frozen on her face. Maybe it had been for a while, but the cracks were just showing now. "And… the boy?"  
  
"We'll let him decide," Emma said, trying her best to be assuring.   
  
Hand on her belt, the heel of it against her holstered sidearm, Emma led Regina out the door. The mob stepped aside and kept their hands down, but the things they said as Regina passed Emma wouldn't repeat for a million dollars. Emma had her hand on Regina's shoulder to keep her going, make sure she didn't run, and she felt Regina shake. There was still a tremble in her when they got to the squad car. Emma opened the backdoor and helped Regina inside.  
  
"Just like old times," Regina said quietly.  
  
Emma got into the front seat. Almost by default, she had resolved to ignore Regina. There just wasn't anything she could think to say.  
  
***  
  
Mary Margaret was with Henry, at Regina's house. They were waiting outside on the porch. As soon as he saw the car coming, he ran down to the curb. When Emma stopped it, he was standing in front of the window Regina sat by. Emma rolled it down for her. She left them alone, going up to Mary Margaret, looking in the front door to make sure no one was lying in wait to ambush Regina.  
  
"I don't like it," Emma said, almost to herself. "Letting Henry choose. It's too much pressure on him."  
  
"He'll choose you. And Regina won't fight it this way. That's best for everyone."  
  
Emma was sure it wasn't best for her. "Get his stuff together. He's not staying here tonight."  
  
Mary Margaret nodded. Emma walked back to the car. Regina was staring straight ahead, like she had in the jail cell, like she was posing for a portrait. Henry was staring at her. "I didn't mean to," he was saying when Emma got into earshot.  
  
"Henry, you ready?" Emma asked. She wasn't sure what he was supposed to be ready for either, but it seemed a maternal thing to say.  
  
"He hasn't said goodbye yet." Regina's thousand-yard stare took in the rear-view mirror like she was scanning a crowded airport for an old friend. Her eyes fidgeted in their sockets. "It may not be in his vocabulary. I'll expect you to correct his schooling as necessary."  
  
Henry turned around to face Emma. "I'm going with her."  
  
" **No!** " Regina said, before Emma could even react.   
  
"Why not?" and Emma had heard the same words from Henry before, in a whining falsetto, but this was plaintive, hurt, a plea. He looked between them like they were conspiring together.  
  
Emma felt Regina's eyes pass over her in their death-rattle twitching. "In the outside world, I have no power. No wealth. I won't be able to provide for you. Here, you'll want for nothing—"  
  
"I don't care!" Henry interrupted. "I don't care how many arguments you have, I'm coming with you!"  
  
"Why?" Regina snapped, looking at him like he was the only thing that could fuel her anger.   
  
"You're my mom."  
  
Regina looked at Emma. She bit her lip until she drew blood. "Get him away from me. I don't want him. He's yours. Not mine."  
  
Emma stared at Regina, who stared right back. Stalemate. Emma couldn't take her eyes away. For as long as she'd known Regina, she'd had a mask up. Even when it'd slipped, she'd hidden her true face with anger. Only toward the end had she started to let Emma in, revealing someone so scarred and hurting that Emma was amazed she could stand.  
  
And now the inverse was happening. Regina's armor was cracking apart, but she wasn't taking it off, it was being stripped from her, battered at by forces beyond her control. Her eyes were turning a veiny shade of red, her face going pale, tears blazing new paths down her hollow cheeks. It was like watching a beautiful, imposing statue go through a thousand years' of decay in moments.  
  
"Please," Regina said at last, and Emma turned back to cry out "Mom!" and Mary Margaret came running. She took Henry's hand and pulled him away.   
  
Emma got closer to the car like she was collapsing on it.  
  
"I never wanted him," Regina said through her tears, lying so badly she almost choked on the words. "I never loved him. He was a b-burden to me from the start! You're welcome to him! I should've… should've…"  
  
"You're not," Emma said, with a kind of wonder.  
  
Regina just looked at her, as Emma wiped her tears.  
  
"You're not that person," Emma continued. "The evil queen, she doesn’t exist. Maybe she did once, but now there's just you. Someone who could give up the only person she loves because she thinks it's best for him." She knelt down to put herself face to face with Regina. There was a hesitant hope entering Regina's face. Even as she couldn't believe it, she let herself be soothed by Emma's voice like a lion waiting to have a thorn taken from its paw. "But it's not. I don't think Henry'd ever get over losing you. And I wouldn't either."  
  
"Don't mock me." The thought crept into Regina, strickening her. "I know I deserve it, but please…"  
  
"I would never."  
  
Regina moaned deeply, an animal sound, raw hunger and need. Emma held onto her face even after she'd pulled away. Regina held herself there, eyes closed, until her arms came up. She wrapped Emma up. Almost as a surprise, Emma felt Regina's arms around her, pulling her back in. Regina couldn't manage a kiss, so she just embraced Emma. She didn't have much strength in her, but all she had pulled them together. A breath, a sniffle, then Regina was back, breaking away with her face almost composed. "Emma. I would appreciate it if you helped us pack."  
  
"Make it quick. We have to pick up my things too." For a second, Regina looked like she would break all over again. "I'm coming with you."  
  
***  
  
They left Storybrooke in the middle of the night. Emma wondered if that made it easier for Henry, not seeing any of what he was leaving behind. She drove, not trusting Regina with it, though the SUV handled like a bucking bronco. But it held most of their valuables. Regina was convinced the 'peasants' would loot and burn her house. Emma thought she underestimated how much they feared her.  
  
Regina sat in the backseat, Henry in her lap. It hadn't been her choice; far too unsafe. But as soon as Regina had gotten into the car next to him, Henry had hugged her and not let go.  
  
The dark road repelled Emma's eyes, driving them toward the rear-view mirror. She couldn't stop looking at Regina. Emma kept trying to see her as the villain of the story, but how could she? How could she not?  
  
When the sun finally put in an appearance, she decided Josh must be up. Stifling a yawn, she dug her phone out of her purse.  
  
"Who are you calling?" Regina croaked. Emma hadn't known she was awake. Her chin was down on Henry's head.  
  
"Josh Lewis. He's an old friend. He might put us up for the night."  
  
"Can you trust him?" Regina insisted.   
  
Imagine her, asking that. "He's not secretly an evil fairy tale, if that's what you're asking."  
  
Emma almost regretted it, the way Regina folded in on herself. "It's not safe to use a cell phone while driving."   
  
"I'll be careful."  
  
As it turned out, Josh was out of town. He told Emma she could use his loft.  
  
Henry woke up shortly after. He stared out at the skyscrapers of Boston, gleaming with the morning sun. Regina scratched his back.  
  
***  
  
Josh's apartment was just like Emma remembered it, which made it like stepping into another world. All the black leather and brown oak reminded her of Regina's house, another kind of monochrome.  
  
Henry treated the unfamiliar like a toy store, as all little boys did. Regina trailed behind him, taking the responsibility of not letting him touch anything expensive.  
  
Emma decoded the satellite TV remote enough to find Henry some cartoons and he fell asleep during the first commercial break. With a glance between them, they decided to leave him on the couch. Regina took off her coat and covered Henry from the neck down. Without its concealment, the woman looked diminished. She didn't have the mayorhood. She didn't have Storybrooke. Her shoulders looked bony and bare. It hurt Emma's eyes to look at her.   
  
The bedroom was unfamiliar, which was actually comforting. She didn't want to be reminded of anything at the moment. After an hour of tossing and turning, the door opened. It didn't let in any light or make any sound, but Emma could hear the air currents change. Regina padded to the foot of the bed, her hand alighting on the bedpost with a click of nails. Emma felt herself shiver, but she didn't know why.  
  
After a thick pause, Regina moved again, now undressing herself. Emma heard the weight of her suit jacket and the length of her trousers against the floor. Panties and undershirt, then. The thought sent memories tumbling through Emma, but none of them awakened any desire or fondness. Even their little game of cops and robbers felt like it had happened to someone else.  
  
Regina crossed over to Emma's side of the bed, standing over her like a specter. Se got down on one knee. Her weight hit the floor with a dull thud. Her fingers parted the veil of hair over Emma's face to find her staring back. And Regina moved in for the kiss. The happy ending. Her happily ever after.  
  
Their kiss went down like perfect poison—colorless, odorless, tasteless. "I don't want you to do that again," Emma said when it was over. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I'll stay with you for Henry's sake, but that's all this is."


	10. Chapter 10

  
It'd been weeks. Emma had gotten back her old job as a bail bondsman, Henry was enrolled in school, and they'd found their own apartment. Three bedroom.  
  
Regina was a stay-at-home mom. Even that promised too much time with Emma, so she volunteered for the mayor's re-election campaign. They had it down to only seeing each other in the mornings. A nice jolt of pain to wake Regina right up.   
  
No one thought Henry noticed. He seemed happy enough at his new school and they shared him evenly, Emma tucking him in one night and Regina the next. It came as a shock when Regina had to pick him up from school early for getting into a fight. "Boston hippie tree huggers. Penalizing children for defending themselves." Regina wished she could turn the SUV around and make some newts out of the lot of them. "You should ask Emma for some tips. I'm sure she knows how to win schoolyard fights, along with any other juvenile delinquencies you could name."  
  
Henry kicked his feet idly. "Mom?"  
  
It still brought a small smile to Regina's face when he called her that. "Yes sweetie?"  
  
"Why are you so tired all the time?"  
  
"I'm not tired. I have coffee."  
  
"In Storybrooke you always seemed sad. Then Emma came and even when you didn't like her you were really hyper around her. But now you're quiet all the time. Like you're trying to get to sleep."  
  
Regina gripped the steering wheel. She couldn't put any strength into it. Her hands were clammy. "Sometimes people are just sad. They can't do anything about it. It's just the way things are."  
  
"Is that why Emma cries at night?"  
  
The information slid into Regina like a knife. She hadn't cried for herself, but now tears welled up. She stared straight ahead, refusing to let Henry see.   
  
***  
  
After work, there was a bar Emma went to to wait Regina out. She drank watered-down piss and listened to music that made up in volume what it lacked in chords. When her phone vibrated, it took a minute for her to feel it through the haze, like a brontosaurus stubbing its toe. She stole her glass and aimed herself at the backdoor, coming out in an alley carpeted with trash. She loved Boston.  
  
She flipped her phone open, finally stilling that insistent buzzing. "Yeah?"  
  
"I had to talk to you," Regina said instantly.  
  
Emma finished her beer. "Is Henry okay?"  
  
"He's fine. Well, he hears you crying." There was a long silence Regina expected Emma to fill. She didn't. "Emma, I've missed your voice so much…"  
  
"Are you drunk? You can't be drunk, I'm drunk."  
  
"Emma. I love you."  
  
Emma lost her grip on the glass. It flew to the ground, cracked. "We agreed not to talk like that."  
  
"You agreed. And you said you couldn't do it. Well, I can't live with half of you. I'd rather never see you again. You or Henry."  
  
Emma wished she wasn't buzzed. Regina's words hit disjointed, taking time to fit together, building bombs. "What are you saying?"  
  
Regina's voice clicked from emotional to hollow, like she was reading from a note now. "I put Henry to bed. My things are packed. I can leave by morning. If you want me to stay…" Regina was quiet for so long that Emma thought the call had been dropped. "Please want me to stay." Then she hung up.  
  
***  
  
Emma's hand shook as she tried to get the key into her apartment's lock. Some of her didn't want to go in, didn't want to find out if she was too late. Regina's ultimatum had left her in a daze. She'd had to sit down. It'd felt like her brain had misted over.   
  
Emma didn't know how long she'd stayed like that, reeling from an impossible choice. Let her back in or lose her forever. How long had it taken her to realize it wasn't a choice? She could live with Regina barely in her life or a full part of it. She couldn't live without the woman. Sobering in more ways than one, she'd abandoned the Bug to run. It was only six blocks.   
  
Now here she was, up the stairs and in front of the door, panting like she'd just run a marathon. It wasn't the distance. All her hopes and fears and wishes had exhausted her. Regina kept her going. She couldn't rest without seeing her. The woman was her insomnia.  
  
She got the key into the lock.  
  
Regina wasn't behind the door. She wasn't in her chair, swirling a glass of wine like she'd known Emma would come. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen or the bedrooms. She wasn't with Henry, the boy fast asleep, not knowing one of his mothers was gone. Emma was filled with the urge to wake him up and hug him, but she wouldn't rob Henry of his last few hours having a whole family.  
  
No! She couldn't let this happen. She'd find Regina, track her down if she had to, and make her see how Emma felt for her. Slapping at her jacket until she found the pocket with her phone in it, Emma punched in Regina's number. She hadn't even had her on speed-dial.  
  
The phone rang, the ring-tone outside the apartment. Emma ran to the hallway, Regina standing there, checking her phone then seeing its opposite number in Emma's hand.  
  
"I thought you were in the car," Regina said, uncomprehendingly overcome. "I know you were drinking and then I told you to come back here, I thought you had driven here and gotten into an accident and I was trying to call you and tell you not to drive, but you weren't picking up, you weren't—" The sky had fallen for her. " _I hoped for this._ I thought this would happen. I… anyone else would leave me, but I _knew_ you wouldn't.  
  
Emma found herself smiling. Despite everything, there was still something between them. Something that could be fixed. Something that could fix them. "Don't leave. Don't ever leave." She wasn't sure if it was a plea, a command, or a declaration of love.  
  
Regina took it as all three.  
  
Emma couldn't think anymore. She rushed into Regina's embrace, feeling her warm and solid and perfect in her arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Having Regina against her skin blew a hole in all Emma's defenses, everything that shored up the feelings she'd locked away. She cried. It felt wonderful.  
  
"No. Don't be sorry, I'll be sorry. I hurt your family, but I never meant to hurt you. I didn't even know people like you existed. I thought everyone was… like me."  
  
"And again I prove you wrong," Emma said, kissing Regina before she could make it an argument.  
  
***  
  
The worst part was the things that couldn't be fixed. Like how Emma cried after getting a call from Mary Margaret. But she cared enough to try and hide it from Regina. And though they slept in the same bed, they were never intimate. The desire just wasn't there. Regina had wished for weeks that Emma didn't tempt her; now that they were together, she craved that hateful energy.  
  
It wasn't as bad as before. Now, Regina could think. She'd manipulated hundreds: their passions, their feelings, their failings. Now she had to turn that ability inward. Use it to make another happy, instead of advancing her own agenda.  
  
Emma got back from dropping Henry off at school to find Regina with several portfolios fanned out on the coffee table. She was dressed in what Emma had come to think of as her realtor look—less powerful than her mayoral wardrobe, but still very smart. Emma took her implied seat and listened intently.  
  
"Emma. Thank you for coming."  
  
"I live here," she answered.  
  
Regina ignored the jibe. She'd gotten good at ignoring Emma. Too good. "I've been thinking about our relationship. How to get back what we had."  
  
"What we had was based on a lie," Emma said, but gently. "Not to be a bitch, but now that we know the truth, what can we get back?"  
  
"It wasn't all a lie." It struck Emma how smoothly the emotion entered Regina's voice. It was under control, but it was just so _there_. Like a part of her. "And to sort the truth from the lie, I think we need some distance."  
  
"Distance…" Emma looked at the portfolios. They were travel arrangements. "You're leaving."  
  
"Temporarily. And it doesn't have to be me. It'll be summer vacation soon. You could take Henry. Spend some time in Storybrooke." Regina misinterpreted the look on Emma's face. "Or I could take a vacation. I've been on the job for twenty-eight years…"  
  
"If Henry and I leave, what happens to you?"  
  
Regina picked up the folder with the Storybrooke bus schedules and shuffled the papers. "The mayoral race is this summer. I've risen high in Mayor Frost's campaign. I'll be kept busy even without two children to look after."  
  
"Two…?" Emma slapped Regina's shoulder. "The jokes are my department, you know. You can admit you're nervous, no humor required."  
  
"I'm always nervous. I keep dreaming you'll leave me for good." Regina set the schedules on Emma's lap. "This way I'll know you're coming back."


	11. Chapter 11

Storybrooke was what Emma needed. Not what she wanted, but what she wanted was to wake up in bed next to Regina, in the mayor's house, and have fairy tales be just a thing in books again. Have a girlfriend whose worst misdeed was preemptively eating the Chunky Monkey ice cream before her family could get to it.  
  
But Storybrooke stopped the alarm from going off behind Emma's eyes, slowed down her hectic mind, spread a balm over where the skin had been stripped from her. It was familiarly unfamiliar, as her high school drama teacher might've said, when he wasn't looking at her boobs. Well, Kelly Foster's boobs, if you wanted to get technical. Damn early bloomers.  
  
David and Mary Margaret weren't married yet—not that they'd been living in sin in fairy tale land, but a new world meant a new start, and since the last wedding had been spoiled by something they didn't want to talk about, they were eager to redo it. But, since Emma's world didn't frown too much on living in sin, there was no rush. And honestly, hadn't Emma always expected her parents to be unmarried? Not royalty, but definitely sluts.  
  
So Mary Margaret had bridal magazines strewn around, gathering ideas while she and Emma's father kept a lid on Storybrooke. With the return of old memories came old grievances, and as the only set of people equally admired in the real world and… well, the other real world… they were the de facto leaders, stopping King Midas from taxing his neighborhood and getting Miss Muffett to agree to let the unicorns graze on her lawn.   
  
The gossip made Emma laugh and feel oddly normal. Maybe she was stuck between worlds, but at least she had a home. Mother or no mother, she always had a mug of hot chocolate and peppermint with her name on it.   
  
They didn't talk about Regina though. Emma wasn't sure who was avoiding the topic, her or Mary Margaret. But they kept away.   
  
***  
  
Tuesday she got eggs thrown at her car. David helped her clean it off. "You know, a lot of people are still angry at Regina. You're the only person they can take it out on."  
  
"I wish they would take it out on me, and not the Bug. What'd it ever do to anyone?"  
  
***  
  
Kathryn and Graham's wedding was the last straw. Regina sent a gift to be given under Emma's name and Kathryn loved it. She thanked Emma profusely and Emma kept thinking how Regina might never be accepted in the closest thing she had to a home, not even enough for a simple thank you. Emma started sobbing during the reception and Mary Margaret knew it had nothing to do with weddings.  
  
Mary Margaret looked like a princess in the dress that hadn't been woven when Emma last saw her, while her daughter had on a power suit that she wore on the witness stand at courthouses and had packed accidentally. They sat on opposite sides of the bench outside the church. Mary Margaret didn't know what would comfort her child more, being held or having her space respected.  
  
"It's Regina, isn't it?"  
  
Emma was loosening her tie just to breath enough to cry more. "We shouldn't talk about her. I don't wanna upset her."  
  
"Emma, I forgave Regina a long time ago. And while I can't forget what she's done, she's also done the one thing she could ever do to redeem herself in my eyes." Mary Margaret smiled at Emma's look, and unasked question. "She made my little girl happy."  
  
"But how can you forgive her? Because of her, I'm _not_ your little girl. You never got a chance to watch me grow up and I never had a mother."  
  
Mary Margaret settled for taking the hand Emma had used to dry her tears. "You never met the Regina I did. She calmed after living in this world for so many years. She was full of rage when I knew her. Her father passed it on to her and her mother couldn't protect her from it. She never really had a chance. Not until you gave her one."  
  
Emma smiled at how Mary Margaret's thumb rubbed the back of her hand. It was so simple, so maternal, yet she'd never done it before. "I didn't have it easy either. Didn't make me curse anyone."  
  
Mary Margaret shook her head. "I'm not trying to excuse what she did. I just want you to know after the curse was lifted, when I saw her for the first time—I didn't recognize her. You did that."  
  
"You don't have to sell me on Regina. I love her, I do. I just need to know how to forgive her."  
  
"Emma Swan. It's simple. If you love her, you've already forgiven her. That's all there is to it."  
  
***  
  
Late nights. Long days. Crappy lunches. What had Regina expected from a political campaign? She'd managed to convince everyone that her twenty-eight year stretch as Mayor of Storybrooke was just a typo. That made her the one who got coffee instead of the one who sent for it. But that would change. Oh yes, it would change. She might not have her magic or her body (that was pledged to Emma and she wouldn't have it any other way), but she had her mind, and that'd always been her deadliest weapon.  
  
She's acquired a weakness as well. That was alright. No one used it against her. She used it against herself. Regina Mills missed her family.  
  
She was huddled in Henry's bed, pretending the smell of his pillow was him, when her phone rang. She was pleased by how strident her voice was when she answered, betraying nothing. "Mills."  
  
"Hi Regina." Emma.  
  
Regina got out of the bed like Emma might see her. "Hello. Is Henry alright?"  
  
"You know he is. I just… wanted to hear your voice."  
  
A new and not unpleasant feeling took hold of Regina. "What would you like to hear it say?"  
  
"Just tell me about your day, Obama girl."  
  
"Everything? I might bore you to death."  
  
"Try. Please."  
  
After that, things just fell into place. It'd been more work keeping things frosty than letting them thaw. Even with her family and friends all around her, Emma missed Regina a little more each day. It was still too early to broach the subject of Regina's return. Things were a little tense with people just knowing Emma and Regina were involved. But Henry was happy, that was good enough for now.  
  
Being apart from Regina still weighted heavily on Emma. During one of their daily phone calls, she asked what Regina was wearing ("Sweatpants and one of your Hot Topic shirts. My ensembles take a lot less work since I was recalled from office."). She would've insisted on a lot more detail, but her mother was in the other room.  
  
***  
  
David had his heart set on taking his newfound family hunting. He bow-hunted. Emma wasn't sure who had read that bedtime story. Ted Nugent?  
  
She agreed to go, but a look at Mary Margaret had her mother "remembering" that she'd promised to take Henry to the arcade. In the twenty-eight years since Storybrooke had been created and then frozen in time, the humble video arcade had gone from Street Fighter 2 to nonexistence. Regina had gotten Henry a Pokemon game, but he insisted it wasn't the same. Emma wasn't sure about that. At least you could sit down to play Pokemon.  
  
***  
  
Emma wasn't shooting any small woodland creatures. She wasn't sure how true to life Walt Disney had been, but she wasn't going to have some bluebird tell her mom how Emma Swan used state-of-the-art technology to blow a hole in something without opposable thumbs. She just kept the gun on her in case David pissed off a bear.  
  
After ten minutes, Emma decided David just liked walking around the forest with a bow. No woodland creatures were involved.  
  
"So, have you talked to your mother?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I talked to Mary Margaret."  
  
"And?"  
  
Emma sat down on a log. This sounded like a long one. "There's an and?"  
  
David stopped too, though he found it more comfortable to put his leg up on a stump. He looked like he could be selling very expensive rum. "She didn't tell you. She was supposed to tell you…"  
  
"Tell me what? Is there some Big Bad Sauron thing coming I have to worry about? Prophecy to fulfill, ragtag bunch of misfits to lead, buncha magical whazits to find?"  
  
"Wrong genre."  
  
"What then?"  
  
He put his hands on his hips, which really didn't help the regal thing. "I thought we should be the first to let you know that it's okay if you want to call me Dad. Same for Mary Margaret. You don't have to, that's not what we're—I'm saying at all. But it might make things easier."  
  
"In one day I got a mom, a dad, and a tiara. I don't think there's an easy setting on that. But I'll try—not to call you David."  
  
"That's all I ask. And I don't want to cramp your style or anything…"  
  
"Pretty sure you'd have to travel back to the 90s to manage that."  
  
"—but Mary Margaret and I are totally fine with your… interest in… other… romantic… women… I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure what's offensive and what's not?"  
  
"I'm good with lesbian," Emma said.   
  
"Yeah, that's what Mary Margaret thought you'd say… well, we have a few of your… compatriots?… in town. Have you met Mulan? She's very that way. You two should have dinner sometime."  
  
"Whoa." Emma got up, walking a few paces, just enough to make David abandon his pose and chase after her. "Are you setting me up with someone?"  
  
"No. Of course not. I just thought you might want some friends with similar interests as you. You can do girl stuff without talking about boys." David grinned nervously, plucking the string of his bow a few times. "She is very becoming, though."  
  
"Dad!"  
  
"The cartoons don't do her justice."  
  
" _Dad!_ I have a girlfriend! She's… Regina's raising my kid!"  
  
"And I'm sure it feels real to you…" Emma turned away and David raised his voice enough to pull her back. "I'm _sure_ it feels real. But so did what I had with Kathryn."  
  
"So, what, Regina cast a spell on me?"  
  
"That's not what I'm saying. Just that it's been hard. Would you be here if it weren't? And maybe it's hard because you're trying to force something that wasn't meant to be."  
  
"It's _hard_ because she was broken into a million pieces and you, _none of you_ , did anything to help her before it was too late. _I'm the one_ who had to clean up your mess. I shot a man, Dad. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"  
  
Whatever David had prepared as a response crumbled away. "No. I don't."  
  
"Neither did I. She's a good person. All her life, everyone's been telling her she wasn't. Even her own son. I'm the first one to believe in her and she's listening to me, but it takes time. You're asking me if I'd be happier with someone else? I can't think like that right now. I have to think about what's best for Henry and Regina. And I don't know how much it helps to have me just… throwing myself against her windshield, but it's all I know how to do. So I'll keep doing that."  
  
David looked down. "You're really going to fight me on this, huh?"  
  
"I really am."  
  
"I hope you know what you're doing."  
  
"I don't. But I don't think anyone else does, either."  
  
***  
  
Regina got the call after a long day at work, relaxing with a tumbler of bourbon. Her toes curled in pleasure at being out of too-tight high heels—she'd done a lot of work pressing the flesh, zipping from one end of the capitol to another and wearing an outfit that was just a little too immodest for her taste. The kind of thing Ruby would wear, for God's sake. The only reason she left it on was because she was expecting Emma to call and she liked the visual of her wearing that and Emma wearing… who _knew_ what…  
  
The moment the phone rang, Regina felt electricity in the air. Something was different now. A bit of magic, almost. She picked the phone up, jamming it against her ear. "Emma," she thrilled.  
  
"Hey," Emma said, a bit hesitantly, as if taken aback from the vehemence that Regina had spoken her name with. "Hey, I don't know if this is quite alright with you…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm coming home a little early. Henry wiggled his way into staying with his grandparents another week, so it'll be just us. If that's alright."  
  
"It's fine," Regina said, her overly pleasant imaginings of a week alone with Emma derailed by the sight of a carton of Chinese take-out on the floor. Furious with it, Regina picked it up and threw it into the waste bin. "How soon until you get here?"  
  
"An hour or so. Just enough time for you to clean up after the wild party you threw."  
  
Regina smiled. "Or you could just join in. When's the last time you did a body shot?"  
  
For a moment, the line was silent except for some stammering. Regina told herself to cut that out. She wouldn't want her girl crashing before their reunion. "Seriously, though, put out the cat I'm sure you adopted while I was gone."  
  
"So we can be alone? Since you're not bringing anyone?"  
  
"No, I'm flying solo."  
  
"Good. Then you'll have no problem picking up some wine on your way home. And a loaf of bread."  
  
"Regina—" Emma was grumbling, but happily.  
  
"Whole wheat, dear."  
  
***  
  
Emma drove into Boston at eleven and reached their apartment in twenty minutes. Traffic was light after dark; the silent streets and droning lamplights putting her in a contemplative, lustful mood. She wanted Regina. Almost not in a sexual way, but with a need for her flesh, her skin, the acerbic warmth she put off. Regina cloaked her concern under layers of formality and sarcasm, and Emma could spend a lifetime unwrapping it.  
  
She parked and, bracing herself against the cold, left the warm cocoon of her car's air conditioning to make her way to Regina. The underground parking garage was cooler and quieter than ever, so uneventful that it sped its way out of Emma's brain. She was in her car, then she was in the lobby, then she was in the elevator, then was on their floor. Then things slowed again, almost unbearably. Her breath went, languid and warm, into her lungs.   
  
She suddenly realized she was out of the night air, sweat covering her like balmy hands. Taking a moment to loosen her clothes, Emma walked the hallway, her eyes darting to the room numbers, counting them off. 701, 703, 705—it was on the right, wasn't it?—707, 709, 711, 713… there she was. Emma reached into her pocket for her keys before realizing they'd never left her hand. She undid the lock. It was just a bit of a relief to know that her key still fit, that it wasn't all some elaborate joke.  
  
With a push, the door swung open. Emma couldn't help a hangdog expression at not seeing Regina there to greet her. But then, that was Regina. She'd probably find her bent over her desk, still doing some paperwork that she'd swear she'd only started five minutes ago.  
  
"Honey, I'm home!" Emma called, just then realizing she'd always wanted to do that.  
  
"Come into the living room. I got you a welcome-home present."  
  
"I love presents," Emma replied, not quite able to stop herself from getting her hopes up. Regina being the lovable bunch of neuroses she was, it'd probably be that she'd put surge protectors on all the outlets. Or turned a mugger into a honeybee. Who knew with her?  
  
She stepped into the living room and dropped her keys to the floor. Regina knelt on the floor, naked. Well, not quite naked. Red ribbons crossed her, covering the nipples of her verifiably perfect breasts and dipping down her cleavage to cover her crotch, then back up between her asscheeks like a thong to meet a bow on top of Regina's head. The corresponding ribbon didn't go across Regina's face, but was held in her teeth, revealed by a broad grin.  
  
"I might've skimped on the wrapping paper," she said through clenched teeth.  
  
Emma's mouth was dryer than a desert. As if in a trance, she stepped forward. Then, as if she were relearning how, she took another step, then another, her hand already stretching out for Regina as those luscious red lips parted, the ribbon falling from the teeth to the ground, leaving the whole thing just hanging off her in a parody of gravity…  
  
"I forgot the wine," she said suddenly, pausing.  
  
Regina looked up at her, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. "We'll make do."  
  
"I got it, I just left it in the car. I could run back down and get it. It'd take two minutes."  
  
" _Emma_ ," Regina rasped, her voice low and deadly.  
  
Emma picked up the ribbon and shoved it back in Regina's mouth. "Two minutes." She moseyed to the door. "It's my present. I can open it when I want."  
  
Regina could do nothing but kneel, there, stewing, moving her hands from her lap only to fit the taut ribbons back into place. She wouldn't give Emma the satisfaction of starting without her, wouldn't let her know in the slightest how it'd _boiled_ her just to see Emma come through that door in her ridiculously oversized coat and just-plain-ridiculous hat. And when Emma returned, she wouldn't be sweet with her, oh no. She'd throw Emma on the bed and rule her like a queen ruled a kingdom, riding her like a thoroughbred, working her like a fertile field…  
  
Emma breezed back through the door, a plastic bag twisting in her hand. "I left it in the elevator."  
  
Regina kept the ribbon in her mouth. But she uttered a distinct growl.  
  
Emma laughed and went to join her, kicking off her shoes. For once, Regina didn't care that they weren't by the door. "You owed me that. C'mon. You've gotta admit you owed me that one." She bopped the bow off Regina's head.  
  
Regina fairly spat out the ribbon. "And they say I'm evil."  
  
Emma stood over Regina, grinning down at her, giving Regina the best seat in the house as she undressed. "Well. You're not." She dropped the bag by Regina. "Still wanna do body shots?"  
  
"Absolutely." Regina's eyes flicked to the bag. "And the bread?"  
  
"We'll put it in the pantry. What are we, perverts?"  
  
"Certainly not." Before Emma could step out of her pants, Regina grabbed her belt and jerked her trousers down with her panties in one go. "Ever had a present open you before?"  
  
"Never had a queen kneel down for me."  
  
"Get used to it," Regina advised her, and kept her mental promise to be rough with Emma in the sweetest way.


End file.
